


Warriors of the Onyx Millennium

by Artemis_Phoenix



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Angst, Astrology, Constellations, Cunnilingus, Debauchery, Drama, Fisting, Fucking, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), Law Enforcement, Mutant Powers, Oral Sex, Other, Paganism, Planets, Queer Themes, Rimming, Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Superheroes, Were-Creatures, Werecat!Drew, Werefox!Alberto, cat toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Phoenix/pseuds/Artemis_Phoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over fifty years ago, there once was a peaceful kingdom on the Moon and the Solar System that was destroyed by evil and destruction. When the monarchs of the Solar System are reborn as mutants and therianthropes on Earth in the 21st Century, their lives change forever as they are chosen to save the Earth from impending doom once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I love _Sailor Moon_ and _X-Men_ , and thought, why not? This is also my way of keeping 3MB alive (and in-tune).
> 
> I don’t own a thing. All borrowed powers and stuff belong to Naoko Takeuchi, Marvel, Stan Lee, Vince, and all the bands 3MB covers from. Originally published on my fanfiction Tumblr, but wrote this back at the end of 2013. A giant work in progress.
> 
> Yes, therianthropes can have mutant powers, too...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it all began...

In 1963, on the planet Earth, Vietnam became a warzone, JFK is assassinated, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, had a dream, morals were being questioned, bread was only twenty-two American cents a loaf, and the fight for freedom and justice was getting started. But on the Earth’s moon, was an entirely different setting, for the people on the Moon were peaceful, sustainable, and caring towards one another. However, that will soon change as the Moon, much like the planet they shine upon at night, will undergo the same tragedies and revolutions.  
  
1963 was known as the Onyx Millennium on the Moon.  
  
The Moon Kingdom was a peaceful territory that was ruled by a no-nonsense monarch in Queen Yemaya. Poverty never existed. Neither did marginalization, imperialism, and militarization, the Queen made sure of it. She made sure her and her people never starved or went broke. However, in order to continue that sustainability, legal and justice systems were to be created, but also to ensure that transformative justice is to be practiced. To enforce these laws and other means, Queen Yemaya created her own cabinet that acted as advisors and protectors of her and the citizens of the Moon Kingdom, like a Secret Service. They were the monarchs of their home planets of the inner Solar System and constellations, each (except the constellations) having their own governments and people.The three monarchs of the inner planets and the monarch of the constellation of Cancer were chosen to protect the Queen and the people from danger. They were Prince Heath of the planet Venus, Baron of Libra, King Wade of the planet Mars, Duke of Leo, and Maharaja Jinder of the constellation of Cancer. 

Because Venus was the Earth's twin, Prince Heath was made Head of State, much to King Wade’s chagrin. Though he looked to him as a little brother, King Wade thought as a leader, Prince Heath was impulsive, reckless, and irresponsible. Nonetheless, they always got the job done.  
  
The Moon Kingdom had its own system of communications, consulting, information, research, education, and transportation. That was ruled by the planet Mercury and its Emperor, Alberto. Emperor Alberto made sure the Moon Kingdom and the entire Solar System traveled to their homes and the Moon Kingdom, had mail and telecommunication services (to and from the Moon and Solar System), anyone looking up information on anything that comes to mind. Service to and from Mercury was speedy, and sometimes unpredictable. Because of this, Emperor Alberto was the Queen’s go-to Ambassador to the Solar System, meaning he was able to travel to and from other planets, to either mediate between monarchs, sent messages directly from the Queen, or help out the planets when needed. Oftentimes, he was sent to the Outer Solar System, which the Queen had her main government.  
  
The Outer Solar System helped her and the Moon Kingdom survive and sustain their resources ethically—something the United States Government on the planet Earth didn’t know how to do. Each planet of the Outer Solar System was assigned to handle certain departments, but all were in charge of preventing invaders from destroying the Moon Kingdom and the entire Solar System. Saturn was the head of homeland security, being that it ruled justice and law enforcement, which included its own Royal Military force. While the King and Queen managed the judicial system (and the harvest, historical, artistic, and archaeological artifacts, and archives), their eldest son, the Thane of Gemini, Prince Andrew, was the head of the Military and Police. He had excellent profiling skills, and he used them to get under his enemies’ skin. However, his violent aggression in preventing the invaders from destroying the Solar System, as well as constant spying on the Moon Kingdom often created chaos and clashed with his parents’ way of ruling the planet (And Queen Yemaya, as she prohibited any form of militarization). They had a deep bond with the planet Mercury in terms of information. Without Saturn’s ruling of historical archives, police records, and order, Mercury wouldn’t been able to create educational institutions and people wouldn’t have access to records.  
  
But, the deep bond laid in the relationship between the Saturnian prince and the Mercurian emperor. They were best friends, and they were also lovers. When it came to balls and social gatherings, Prince Andrew (or Drew, as people would call him) and Emperor Alberto were inseparable. They were like a pair of twins—same personalities, same temperaments, same hard-driven ability to protect and sustain the Solar System. They sensed each other when danger lurked. They could also read each other’s minds (which was often handy, yet erratic during their lovemaking sessions).  
  
Prince Drew’s parents were unaware of this relationship, because the young man was extremely private about his social life. And, when Emperor Alberto would stop by to give word to the Saturnian king and queen, Prince Drew would invite him to his bedroom/office/chambers and play his violin for him. Most of the time, the Emperor would inform the Prince on public safety, but usually, it ends up with them drinking, playing cards, and fucking (The doors are always locked and guarded by Prince James, Prince Drew’s younger brother and Police Commander). Then, Emperor Alberto would spend the night in Prince Drew’s arms (after countless orgasms) until he felt he overextended his welcome.  
  
The only person aware of the relationship between the Mercurian emperor and the Saturnian prince, was their best friend, the King of Uranus, Sheamus. He was the sky king, which fit him, because half of the time, his head was in the clouds. But he was serious in terms of change, especially when trying to change the laws Prince Drew was trying to enforce. He was also serious in his role in helping protect the Solar System from outside invasion. Every time Emperor Alberto would visit the planet Uranus, someone made creative, yet, wacky inventions (from slushie makers to barf bags for newbie drunks), someone was starting riots, love-ins occurred (when they should belong on Venus), teach-ins occurred, teenagers ran away from their homes (and became the planet Saturn’s problem).  
  
It was a hot mess, but King Sheamus often put his foot down (in the form of a Brogue kick) in some of the radical changes that occurred under his rule. He liked that his people didn’t conform to the conservative, authoritative, and policing values like the Saturnian people did, but as long as they respect themselves, each other, and not overdo it to the point where rioting can occur. He did not allow his people to overindulge in some of the recreational drugs and alcohol. Uranus was a planet of non-conformity, not a planet of debauchery. He was excited whenever his best friends stopped by. They would drink, wrestle each other (while drunk), and talk about anything, and everything.  
  
After that, Emperor Alberto would leave his lover and King Sheamus in their home planets, to tend to his own planet and do anything Queen Yemaya asked of him. The other two would continue to protect the Solar System, and the Moon Kingdom, while tending to their own matters at the same time. Although it was a tough job and often, the Queen’s Secret Service would get frustrated over the three coldly refusing to work with them because Yemaya didn’t not allow them to leave their home planets. The only time the Outers ever left their planets, was when the Moon Kingdom had balls and gatherings, and it was mandatory for everyone to attend.  
  
Despite the work disputes between the Outer and Inner planets, as well as the Constellation of Cancer, they have become good friends. Prince Drew, especially. He had formed a close, motherly-type bond with Prince Heath and Maharaja Jinder. When the Moon Kingdom had balls, the three young monarchs would perform musical pieces for the Queen and her court. Prince Drew had his violin, Prince Heath would play the piano (sometimes the mandolin, guitar, and viola), and Maharaja Jinder would play the drums and flute he made from an old dinner roll that turned into a workable hollowed rock. The people of the Moon Kingdom danced along to the music, and the Queen was always happy.  
  
The Solar System was a serene place to live in the Onyx Millennium.

Or so everyone else thought.

Until that tragic day that would change time and lives forever.  
  
An evil force from the other side of the Universe came undetected through the radars of the Outer Solar System. They were known for their circus charades, random terrorist attacks on asteroids, and their pro-slavery views. The Moon Queen Mother had once banished them eons ago, never to be seen or heard from again. They were known as the Dead Moon Clan.  
  
Somehow, their leader, Queen Topaz, had awaken an entity that was powerful than the monarchs of the Solar System—One that could create life, but destroy it by all means necessary. It rose from its own world, and burned the force that imprisoned the evil queen and her court. The entity’s fiery wings would envelop them and transport them to the planet where the arts, sex, drugs, alcohol, illusions, dreams, the subconscious, and rock & roll occurred: Neptune.  
  
Neptune’s king was one of the powerful warriors in the Solar System and, like the planets Saturn and Uranus, assigned to protect the Solar System from outside invaders. Neptune was also home to numerous health care systems, medicine, welfare systems, and religious sanctuaries.  
  
Neptune had higher records in crimes, which annoyed the hell out of Prince Drew. He and his family were getting sick and tired arresting and imprisoning Neptunians who couldn’t get their shit together. The Saturnian King and Queen even forbade King Sheamus from letting Neptunians enter Uranus, knowing full well drama will ensue.  
  
But the Neptunian King, King Chris, didn’t care. This was how it was supposed to be. This was how people healed, how people could come and escape. For being such a powerful King, he was oblivious to the chaos and disorder surrounding him. He was also oblivious to the Dead Moon Clan forcing the Phoenix Force to possess him.  
  
The Phoenix Force bonded within the Neptunian King’s body and personality, making him more powerful enough to attack, and that’s exactly what he did. He destroyed his own people before entering the Moon Kingdom past the Outer Soldiers’ radars.  
  
The Outer Monarchs and the Mercurian Emperor tried to catch the Phoenix and the Dead Moon Clan, but they were too late. The Dead Moon Clan and the Phoenix Force had killed the citizens of the Moon Kingdom. Their power was too much for the Queen’s Cabinet Members, the only monarchs who protected her and her court from danger, for they succumbed to it. Their battered bodies were inside the Moon Palace, while Queen Yemaya was fighting for her life.

Prince Drew, Emperor Alberto, and King Sheamus stood by the Moon Queen and saw their whole lives destroyed. They saw King Chris as the Phoenix flying above, taunting them. Prince Drew was livid that they failed to protect the Solar System from this danger. He thought that there was no way they could rebuild and recover. Emperor Alberto gazed into his lover with worry, for Prince Drew was never emotional, but he felt the pain from his broken heart. Prince Drew confirmed his worries by giving the Mercurian Emperor once last kiss. He picked up the glaive that once belonged to his father and held it above his head. King Sheamus tried to stop the Saturnian Prince from doing the unthinkable but was shoved away.  
  
Before Queen Yemaya used her remaining energy to cast a spell using the Glitter Ice, Prince Drew raised the glaive above before lowering down in an abrupt strike against the ground. A bright, white light swept the Moon Kingdom like an atomic bomb being detonated and wreaking havoc upon the land. King Chris and the Phoenix Force that was controlling his body, mind, and spirit, were sealed away into a white hole. The Dead Moon Clan was sealed away into an unknown abyss into the galaxy. The Moon Kingdom was also destroyed. Saturn’s Glaive made sure that little to no remains of the once peaceful and sustainable kingdom existed. However, as Queen Yemaya succumbed to the exhaustion and stress from using the Glitter Ice, she sealed her court, her Cabinet members, her messenger, and the two Outer Solar System monarchs into rainbow aura-like rays.  
  
The rays traveled fifty years into the future so that the souls sealed inside them could be reborn on Earth. Those reborn will once again be called upon to save the Earth from the impending Incarnate destined for utter destruction…

  
  
  
**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	2. The Present - Miami, Florida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter...

Heath Slater had a rough couple of years. He once was a decorated athlete in Pineville, West Virginia, winning everything from basketball trophies to Golden Gloves in boxing. Though he had these achievements under his belt, half of the town despised him. It wasn’t the trophies he kept winning.  
  
Heath was a mutant, meaning he was born with supernatural abilities.  
  
There were billions of mutants living all over the world. Some were tolerant towards mutants, but unfortunately for Heath, the town’s ultra-conservative ways were intolerable of him. Heath had the ability to create plasma orbs of pure psionic energy. The bigger the orb, the more dangerous the explosion. The orbs could also be converted into beams of light, which Heath used to entertain curious groups of children (until they were pulled away by their parents). If it wasn’t the orbs, he was attracting people with his pheromones, color-coded to match their intentions. Green was envy, a light red was love, cherry-red was lust, etc. He used them to manipulate them, if he wanted to, but he mostly got dates with women and men, and received beatings from their ex-boyfriends and conservative members of the community.  
  
Heath was sad and angry at how the town hated on him. It wasn’t his fault he was born like this. The town didn’t offer any sympathy, but constant gaslighting and victim-blaming. He also couldn’t gain employment in retail or any corporate job because of his mutant abilities. The only way for Heath to have a sustainable income, was to engage in prostitution. Being a sex worker, however, were met with severe consequences with Law Enforcement and the Prison-Industrial-Complex. Heath was not only the town mutant, but the town whore.  
  
Heath’s future in West Virginia was bleak and depressing, so he moved away to a place where he could make his dreams come true, and there would always be parties: The sunny beaches of Miami, Florida.  
  
The strawberry-blond haired man had a talent to become a rock star. He could play every musical instrument he could get his hands on, as well as belt out a note or two, but he realized that no one would take interest in a one-man Southern rock band (Except on _America’s Got Talent_ ), nor will they sign him to a record deal. That’s when Jinder Mahal, a Canadian immigrant of Punjabi Indian descent, came into the picture.  
  
Six months prior, Jinder had opened a Punjabi-style Indian bakery with his widower father in Miami’s Design District, when he answered to Heath’s ad about starting a band:

>  
> 
> _**I want to start a band.** **My influences are Guns N’ Roses, The Gits, AC/DC, Peaches,** **Staind, Shooter Jennings, Metallica, & Hole. ** **Call me @ 304-JK5-0715.** _
> 
>  

Like Heath, Jinder played every single instrument his late mother ever taught him, because she thought he wasn’t going to be marriage material if his future wife was going to be bored by a man with no talent. Also, like Heath, Jinder was a mutant with the ability to feel the emotions of others and control them. He also had the ability to control people to do his bidding, depending on how he’s feeling, or just for fun.  
  
Their two-man band got off to a great start within these six months of knowing each other, but Heath felt like there was something missing. That Fall, Jinder introduced three of his new friends, an Irishman, an Englishman, and a Scotsman who was closer to Jinder’s age. “Heath, this is Sheamus O'Shaunessy, Wade Barrett, and Sergeant Drew Galloway,” Jinder introduced him.  
  
The three men had moved from Europe five years ago. They had different backgrounds and met randomly at a pub in Wales before moving to the United States to pursue the American dream. Ever since Jinder and his father opened the bakery, Drew, Wade, and Sheamus became his regular customers. They also had mutant powers. Wade and Sheamus were telepaths, with Wade having pyromantic and pyrokinetic abilities along with his, as well as the ability to transport himself to another place, or have objects transport to him. If he wanted to, the Englishman could astral project. Sheamus, on the other hand, could hear voices in the wind, as well as implanting false memories into other people's brains. Drew explained that he was a werecat, a type of human species where he can turn into a black cat with five digits on each of his paws, and a very long tail, similar to a snow leopard's. He also explained that twenty-five percent of werecats could develop mutant abilities.  
  
“I am part o’ teh twenty-five percent,” he explained as he unscrewed a light bulb from the lamp above them and gripped the end of the bulb. The bulb illuminated in his hand then shut itself off as Drew placed it on the table. “I hae three sets of organs in meh body that generates electricity. Teh doctors back in Scotland were freaked out by it when I was growin’ up. Plus, I am telekinetic and technopathic. Meh mind is like a bloody computer; Fae example, I can clean teh house while play back a movie I saw at teh cinema."  
  
After three months of hanging out and getting to know each other (adding in some heated conversations between Wade and Heath), Heath asked if they would like to join his band. “Actually,” Wade guffawed, his English accent perky, “Drew can play!”  
  
“Wade!” growled Drew. “Do nae bring it up! I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it!”  
  
“Ah, don’t be so mod'st, mate! You’re ah former Suzuki violin prodigy. You’ll fit in perfe'ly with 'Eath’s band.”  
  
Suddenly, Drew's face began to glow a light neon-purple, turning into a werecat flashing light bulb. “Goddamnit, Barrett!” yelled Sheamus. “He’s become bioluminescent again!”  
  
“Wha I do?” scoffed Wade.  
  
“Yer embarrassin’ him! Stop it!”  
  
“Aye, stawpit!” hissed Drew as he stopped glowing.  
  
“You don’t hafta join if you don’t wanna, Drew,” said Heath. “Ah completely understand.”  
  
“Anyway” Sheamus snorted, “two of our roommates moved out, so if yer fellas are interested, we need the occupancies filled, ASAP.”

Heath was surprised. He had only known them for awhile, and to have them offer their home was comforting. He was glad in his life for once that he found a group of people, mutants like him, that he can call them his family, and that he could live in a safe environment. "Thanks, y'all!“ he said. "Ah’ve been living in motels an’ mah car for awhile now. It feels nice to finally have a place to call home.”

“We got free beds, too,” added Drew. “So, ye ain’t gotta worry 'bout bed sores and bugs botherin’ ye at night, Heath. We cleaned them all up!”  
  
“Great!”

“Don’t worry about food!” said Jinder, “I can do the grocery shopping because I love cooking, I just gotta ask my dad if I can move in. He’s got health issues as of late since my mom died, so I’ve been helping him out with the bakery and all that.”  
  
“If ya don’t mind ah certain ginger Irishman keepin’ ya up snorin’ like ah gorilla,” Wade quipped, before getting a growling stare from Sheamus. "Rent's about three-hundred a month."

“Ye shouldnae beh talkin’, English,” Drew sarcastically retorted. “Ye farts are strong enough tae kill off a colony of ants.”  
  
Heath, Jinder, and Sheamus were giggling, pissing off Wade.  
  
“Says the Scotch werecat who brings 'ome rats an’ eats 'em on the kitchen floor with limes!” Wade said with a devilish smile.

“Do nae bloody start!” Suddenly, Drew’s radio announced a homicide south of the Model City neighborhood. “Copy that, headin’ o'er there nae,” the Scotsman spoke into the radio before storming out of the bakery and hopping into his car.  
  
A year went by, and Heath and Jinder moved into the house Drew, Sheamus, and Wade shared in the Model City neighborhood. They had become a loving family, with brotherly-like bickering between Wade and Heath, Heath and Sheamus waking up the entire house with their loud snoring, Jinder feeding everyone, and Drew using his technopathic abilities to get free soccer games, porn, and pay-per-views by manipulating their satellite provider’s DVR with his iPhone. It was that same year Drew decided to join Heath and Jinder’s band, calling themselves 3MB. They made extra cash playing punk rock and grunge covers at bars and clubs, and played at Sheamus’ pub where the Irishman worked as a bartender.  
  
Heath was about to live his dream as a rock star when a stuffed white cat appeared on his bed from out of nowhere one night. He unzipped the back of the plushie and found an orange wand with a giant gold star attached to it. The Venus glyph was etched on the star. Then, the zipper that was on the stuffed cat’s back disappeared. _What in the world?_ He thought.  
  
Then he read the etched wording on the wand before Jinder rushed through his bedroom like the police on a sting. “Jinder!” he yelled. “Why you bustin’ in mah room for?! What is yo’ deal, man?”  
  
The Indian held up a black stuffed cat and a sand-colored wand with a golden crab attached to it. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Do you know about all of this?”  
  
“Nah-uh!” the Southern ginger responded, “Ah just found this white stuffed cat on mah bed with this wand.”  
  
Then, Jinder pointed at Heath’s forehead. The same glyph that was on Heath’s wand blazed a bright orange on his head. Heath stared at the tall mirror and freaked out. Jinder then noticed the Cancer symbol illuminated a bright baby-blue color on his own forehead hidden underneath his turban, and they both started screaming. “OHMIGOD, WE GON’ DIEEE!!” yelled Heath.  
  
Jinder then started bawling his eyes out, and Heath joined him as they embraced. “I’ll put you on my will, Heath!” Jinder sobbed. “Just take care of my dad for me.”  
  
“Ah luh ya, Jinder!” sobbed Heath. “Don’t worry about the money. Ah’ll put you on Child Support an’ Welfare!”  
  
The hug got super uncomfortable as Jinder shoved Heath.  
  
“Why you push me, man?” whined the Southern ginger.  
  
“Uh, first of all, I’m not a bigot, but I don’t go _that way_!” said Jinder. “Second of all, you gotta have a child to get all of that.”  
  
“Oh, yeah!”  
  
All of a sudden, they heard someone screaming, so they looked out the window and saw an insect-like monster terrorizing the neighborhood. They ran out onto the lawn to check it out. Out of the blue, they heard a voice in their heads telling them to transform with the wands they were given.  
  
Jinder felt like they’ve been drinking too much.  
  
“VENUS STAR POWER…MAKE-UP!” Heath was the first to raise his wand up and a glowing yellow light engulfed the Southerner. The strawberry-blond emerged wearing a blue denim bedazzled jacket and a bright orange and yellow jumpsuit with a studded blue belt and orange knee-high boots to compliment it (Think Rogue from X-Men but with all the fuku colors of Sailor Venus). There was a gold crescent moon patch on his chest, and his strawberry-blond hair had light cerulean highlights.  
  
“CANCER LUNAR POWER…MAKE-UP!!” Jinder was the next to transform, emerging into a powder blue sleeveless top with sandy brown trousers and white boots.  
  
The monster roared and continued to wreak havoc in the neighborhood. “STOP!” they yelled.  
  
“You’ve terrorized this neighborhood long enough, pal!” yelled Jinder. “These people have to go to work tomorrow! Don’t you understand how hard it is to get a job in this economy these days?”  
  
Heath slapped his own forehead. “Kancer…that was kinda awkward and cheesy. Anyway, allow us to introduce ourselves, Mista Bug Monster! They call me Vynus! Ah stand for Love an’ Beauty!”  
  
“And…I’m Kancer, the warrior of Soul and Embrace!” Jinder folded his arms.  
  
“And we’re here to ROCK YOUR FACE!”  
  
“That ain’t how a catchphrase’s supposed to sound!” Kancer scoffed. “It goes, 'We will right all wrongs and triumph over evil, and that means you!’”  
  
“What kinda superhero catchphrase is that supposed to be?” Vynus whined. “It’s, 'In the name of da Moon, we shall punish you!’”  
  
“Why’re you stealing shit from _Sailor Moon_ , dumbass?”  
  
“You were doin’ it, too!”  
  
They started arguing until the Bug Monster roared at them, its mandible hinging open. Vynus had enough of it being rude while he and Kancer were bickering. He raised his arm and pointed his finger at the monster. “VENUS…CRESCENT BEAM SMASH!!” Vynus zapped a beam of light from his finger directly at the Bug Monster.  
  
It inflicted some major damage, but the Bug Monster was livid so it spat a green slime at them but Kancer fought back with his own attack. “CANCER…BUBBLE BLAST!!” he yelled. A crowd of bubbles covered the creature and froze it. Unfortunately, the Bug Monster broke from its icy prison and chased the boys down the street.  
  
Just then…  
  
“MARS…FIRE IGNITE!!” They heard a booming English accent.  
  
A bright flame devoured the Bug Monster until it became a shadowy ghost, escaping to the night sky.  
  
Vynus and Kancer turned around and saw Wade in a bright red sleeveless jumpsuit with a purple belt and black boxing boots and cape.  
  
“Wade?!” they exclaimed.  
  
“Wade Barrett, ya know me as,” said the Englishman, “But always will be known as the guardian of Fire and Passion, Aryes.”  
  
“Oh…” Vynus pondered. “So tell me, Aryes, ya know what da hell is goin’ on? We got monsters runnin’ bout, Ah got covered in bug slime, an’ we’re dressed up like we goin’ to a comic convention, naw mean?”  
  
“I don’t know 'ow to explain this in ah way your small peanut o’ ah brain can compre'end,” Aryes explained, his condescending attitude pissing Vynus off, “But it seems that the three o’ us had ah past life, and I’ve been seein’ premonitions in the stove flame for a month 'fore I became the man you see me as.”  
  
“What did you see?” asked Kancer.  
  
“Darkness, doom. This whole planet is in danger from an unknown source in the Universe. Some'ow, the three o’ us came together for a reason…”  
  
Vynus started laughing hysterically, literally rolling on the floor. Darkness? Evil sources? If they were going to be forced to give up their dreams and fight evil in these silly costumes, they had another thing coming. “It ain’t bloody funny, YA RED'EADED IDIOT!” yelled Aryes.  
  
Kancer started crying. “Yeah, Vynus…I DON’T WANNA DIE!! WAAHHHHHHHH!!!”  
  
Vynus sighed. This was going to take a lot to sink in.  
  
Three months went by, and since they found out about their magical powers, Heath, Jinder, and Wade continued on with their normal lives, making sure to hide their identities from Sheamus, and especially Drew.  
  
Drew was a former CIA espionage, and since he was a technopath, can generate electricity like an eel, and telekinetic, the boys made sure to delete their emails and destroy any hard evidence on their computers and phones. The Scotsman was known to absorb any information by just being near the computer or any mobile device, and he could hack and manipulate the computer systems as well.  
  
They regretted hiding such information, but when the time was right, they could tell them. For now, they have to save the world from destruction, even if meant Heath and Jinder going behind Drew’s back and canceling shows. However, the Scotsman and the Irishman have been hiding their true identities from their friends, going back to two and a half years, even before meeting Heath and Jinder.  
  
Every night, Drew and Sheamus would sneak out of the house and come back into late morning. Wade knew better not to ask Drew invasive questions, fearing a heated argument and physicality with him and Sheamus. So, he assumed that Drew was doing undercover work, and Sheamus was with him as an informant.  
  
What Wade was unaware of, was the fact that Drew and Sheamus were the same soldiers as he and the others, but much stronger, and with an entirely different mission. It all started with these strange nightmares, along with seizure episodes Drew kept having when he was with the CIA. He kept seeing the Moon Kingdom being destroyed before seeing a white light. They grew traumatic every time, and Drew would wake up anxious and drained. Sometimes, he would envision the entire galaxy, Solar System, and all. It would end up on the wall like a 3D film, but he was projecting it from his mind. In that galaxy he envisioned, the moon would be a crimson-red, the Solar System dry and barren, having lost its luminosity. No matter how hard he worked himself up the CIA ladder for five years, hoping to pursue his dream goal of heading Glasgow’s Interpol office, the nightmares and seizures kept cutting his dreams short.  
  
So Drew had no choice but to “retire” from the CIA, after moving to the States from Scotland at only twenty-three, and accept his destiny as a Soldier of the Outer Solar System. However, he went into the Miami Police Department Academy, graduated, and somehow rose up the ranks to become Sergeant, heading the newly-created Behavioral Intelligence Unit, overseeing all of the city of Miami. It wasn’t like the CIA, the pay was decent, despite the MPD being underfunded. Every day he led a case, the Scottish werecat felt one step closer to his dream.  
  
Sheamus, on the other hand, never had the traumatic nightmares as Drew did, but growing up in Ireland, whenever there were windy weather conditions, he had fainting spells. Because of it, in addition to his bright red hair, freckles, and pasty white skin, he was bullied by other kids. As he grew older and more confident, his mutant telepathic abilities developed. He used them to get back at his bullies who tormented him with names and beatings. The wind from the heavens no longer became a burden, but more of a messenger. It made him remember the last days of his past life, but reminded him of danger surrounding the Earth.  
  
When he moved to the States to pursue his dream of running his own pub and boxing gym, the wind sent him cryptic messages of his true destiny. Like Drew had to give up his dream, Sheamus did the same, and in these two-and-a-half years, their mission had been to save the world from destruction. Their mysterious goal would unravel as an evil, mysterious organization would sneak their way into Earth.

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	3. There's Something About That Nail Salon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade becomes the target of an evil organization that opened a nail salon across the street from Jinder’s bakery in Miami’s Design District. Who the hell are these people, and what are their motives?

That summer, a nail salon opened across the street from Jinder’s bakery, and business was booming for Jinder and his dad. Half their clientele were Indian and Pakistani women, ordering cakes for their weddings, bridal showers, godh bharai (baby shower), and graduations. They would come to the bakery and order cakes, or sit and chat enjoying chai lemonade iced tea and red velvet cookies Jinder created for the menu, then go across the street to get their nails done.  
  
One day, Drew, his partner-subordinate, Officer Kevin Wozniak, a rookie fresh from the Academy, and Sheamus stopped by at the bakery. The investigators were hanging out with Sheamus on their break. Suddenly, Sheamus turned to the nail salon across the street, then heard a chorus of whispers made from the breeze. “Hey, do you hear something in the wind, mate?” Drew asked him in a language that sounded like Gaelic, Pig Latin, and Scottish English mixed together, baffling Jinder as he took Wozniak’s order.  
  
“Yeah, somethin’s a bit off with that nail salon across the street,” the Irishman responded back, only with Irish and Pig Latin mixed together, still staring at the stale cotton-candy pink colored building. “Maybe, when you get off work, we can investigate it?”  
  
Wozniak turned to Jinder, who couldn’t help but hear this bizarre conversation between the two Celts. “You know what they talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked, assuming (because he was a person of color).

Jinder never felt insulted in his life since coming to Florida. “Would you like spit with that coffee?” he retorted sweetly before storming off.

As he attempted to retreat to his office, Jinder's dad yelled in Punjabi to get back to work. Jinder yelled back in the same tongue, swearing and talking about the rookie cop. Jinder’s dad responded by slapping him across his face. The customers were now engaged in conversation, creating an awkward and embarrassing environment in the bakery. It severed the conversation between Sheamus and Drew as they were the artery that caused this manic situation.  
  
“Where did Jinder go?” asked Drew.  
  
“He got pissed for some reason,” his partner responded, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
The Scotsman folded his arms. “What’d ye bloody say this time, Wozniak?”  
  
“Well, I assumed the guy knew what you two were talkin’ about–  
  
Drew rolled his eyes and stared at the sky in annoyance. "Gods! Get in teh damn car! We’ll talk 'bout this later!”  
  
“C'mon, Sarge, I wasn’t even doin’–  
  
"Right. Nae,” Drew said the last word to him, the vowel letters mixed with his Scottish accent freezing the rookie.  
  
“Yes, sir.” Wozniak sauntered across the street in shame.  
  
“Gods, I cannae take this man anywhere!” The Scottish werecat scoffed as he turned to sip at his tea. “Bloody racist is he!”  
  
Sheamus shook his head and sighed. “Yer know, fella,” he said, “ya shouldn’t 'meow’ like that in public. Yer gonna cause a scene.”  
  
The Scotsman stared and blinked at him. “Well, maybe if ye tell teh wind tae shut up once in awhile, we wouldnae be speakin’ in public places like this.”  
  
“Ain’t me fault if the wind sees a shady establishment standin’ across from 'ere. Looks like we got ourselves an enemy that ain’t shown his face since we started doin’ this.”  
  
“Aye, but we hae a mission tae fulfill 'ere. It ain’t a good idea tae jump into investigatin’ that place right away.”  
  
“Yeah.” The Irishman sighed.  
  
Just then, Wozniak approached their table again. “Wozniak!” Drew yelled at him. “Didnae I just tell ye tae stay in teh bloody car?!”  
  
“We gotta run, Sarge,” said the rookie cop. “They found a body in Little Haiti Park, said they heard shots fired.”  
  
The Scotsman turned to Sheamus, giving him a $50 bill before running across the street to their police-issued SUV. “We’ll talk later, and give this tae Jinder fae teh cupcakes!”  
  
Sheamus was right about his premonition. The owners of the nail salon, did have a very, very dark background. They were called The Ravens, and they would do nails to cover their magical operation of creating monsters and wreaking havoc. Their leader was Vickie Guerrero, also known as Cougah Divalicious. She was cunning, devious, and snaky, not to mention, she loved scrapbooking and looking fierce in designer clothing. While she was running the salon, she created these strange monster eggs and trapped them in nail polish bottles. They were often on display in the store to the customers, but they were never used, until one day on their break, she summoned one of her employees-henchwomen, Kaitlyn Bonin, who was also known as Nightingale Deception.  
  
“We are now ready to use these monster eggs,” Cougah announced with a cackle. “These creatures selects whatever Earthling, be it a human, werecat, werewolf, with or without mutant abilities with pure hearts. Then, they snatch them.”  
  
“Pure hearts?” asked Nightingale, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, no disrespect, boss, but have you been inhaling the new Sephora nail polishes again?”  
  
Cougah was speechless. “EXCUSE ME! We didn’t stage this nail salon just to do actual nails, you know? We’re an evil organization and we’re here to get this Holy Grail. That Holy Grail allows the holder to do whatever they want…like taking over this world.”  
  
As the Cougah was cackling about, Nightingale folded her arms and sighed. “So, am I gonna get paid to kill people, is that what you want?” she asked her boss in annoyance. “Like how, you didn’t pay me last week? I have rent to pay, unless you like your employees to be on the streets living paycheck to–  
  
"DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE ABOUT YOU?! No! This is about the talismans, the ones that can produce the Holy Grail–These five talismans are the pure hearts of the chosen ones.”  
  
Nightingale was confused. “So,” she mused, “in order to get these five talismans, we have to find these chosen ones with their pure hearts hiding the talismans–This is out of _Sailor Moon_ , isn’t it?”  
  
“Uh, no?! _Sailor Moon_ had _three_ talismans. This is different.”  
  
“Yeah, sure it is. Do you even know what the Holy Grail looks like, then?”  
  
“Isn’t that what the talismans are supposed to do? Which they can’t, unless you find them!”  
  
“Okay, okay! You don’t have to yell!”  
  
Cougah gave her the bottle of the sparkly nail polish with the monster egg in it. Nightingale left the salon muttering about what a crazy psychopath bitch she was, and that she hoped she was getting paid to do this dirty work.  
  
“And when get the Holy Grail, the world will be ours!” Cougah screamed, cackling like a crazed maniac before she got caught by one of her customers. "Excuse me? Can you please have a seat? Someone will be here to serve you."  
  
Later that night, Wade kept having strange apocalyptic images in his dreams. They were of buildings being burned to the ground, and he saw Jinder and Heath as Kancer and Vynus being destroyed by this mysterious inferno. It left him shaken.  
  
All his life, Wade knew that he was a mutant. His abilities manifested when he was around thirteen years old spending his summer holidays at his grandmother’s cottage south of Preston, England. His precognitive abilities started to form into visions he would witness in the campfires in the woods. He would deny or push these visions away into his subconscious, until one of them came true. Wade witnessed a female neighbor get brutally assaulted by a group of hoodlums. He attacked them by manifesting a pair of fiery beams that represented daggers from his fists and scared them away. He tended to the girl, and suddenly, he experienced her pain and suffering, as well as visions of her life. When he 'felt’ the girl’s death as he held her in his arms, he was traumatized. He never told his grandmother about it, even when she asked him about the raked twigs in the backyard mysteriously bursting into flames.  
  
Wade knew that his abilities posed him as a threat to other non-mutants, which he called them, “Normies”. He left Preston when he turned eighteen and studied Marine Biology in Liverpool, but he felt empty inside. So he graduated and started bare-knuckle boxing all over Europe before meeting Drew and Sheamus at a pub in Cardiff. When they moved to the States, he felt safe when using his psychic and pyrokinetic abilities. However, he knew to keep them at bay when he took a job working as a marine biologist at the Southeast Fisheries Science Center, and in public, because he knew that normies were not to be trusted, especially now that he was destined to fight as the warrior of Passion and War, Aryes, and especially having these apocalyptic visions of darkness and destruction.  
  
Winter came along, and Wade, Jinder, and Heath were busy Christmas shopping. It was a relief for Jinder to have a huge break from the bakery. He never knew that he would bake a bunch of cakes for weddings and create a bunch of menus, plus his dad was in and out of the hospital. It was a lot for Jinder to handle, but he was glad to have support from Heath and the others. They sat down at a restaurant in the Brickell neighborhood ordering hamburgers, fried chicken, ribs, and beer, chatting about anything and everything. Although Wade enjoyed hanging out with his two friends/housemates, the same premonition kept interrupting his fun. He looked into the candle’s flame inside a small glass, then clutched his chest as sweat formed on his head as he forced himself back to reality. “Whoa,” he whispered.  
  
“You all right, Wade?” Jinder asked in concern. “You’ve been in and out of touch lately. Still having those weird visions?”  
  
Wade gasped at the Indo-Canadian. “'Ow’d ya know wot I was dreamin’ of?”  
  
“One, you’ve been staring into random flames. Two, I can sense strong energy draining from you lately, but can’t detect what it is because Heath’s pheromones are throwing me off!”  
  
They stared at Heath, who was exhaling a blue shimmery smoke from his lips onto a paper crane. The crane floated on top of the blue smoke and smacked Wade in the face. The Englishman grabbed the paper bird and crumpled it. “Ya damn git!” he said in a hushed gruff. “Ya tryin’ to get us all killed? If these bloody normies ever catch us usin’ our abilities in pub–  
  
"Relax, man,” scoffed the redheaded rocker. “Ah ain’t doin’ nothin’! That’s the problem with this world these days. People get freaked out 'cause we can read minds an’ stuff, an’ caint even wanna accept us.”  
  
He took a swig of his beer and fixed his strawberry-blond hair into a ponytail. “To be honest with y'all, ever since Ah moved from West Virginia to Florida, Ah ain’t been looked down on or cussed at, or even had to lock mahself in public closets in case someone tried to kill me. In almost two years, Ah ain’t never been this happy in mah life. Ah understand yo’ concern for our safety an’ all, Wade, but sometimes ya gotta have fun with what God gave you.”  
  
He saw a waiter pass by with a tray of fruit salad, the watermelon being the bowl, the melon, berries, cherries, sliced peaches, and sliced oranges being the salad.  
  
“Watch this,” Heath said with a smile as he conjured up a golf ball-sized orb and quickly placed it between a golf ball-sized honeydew ball and a cherry.  
  
They watched the fruit salad being placed at a table where a Latin man dressed in a fine tailored suit with jet black hair slicked back. When they saw the man stab the orb with a fork thinking it was a cantaloupe ball, the salad and the watermelon bowl exploded into his face, hair, and clothing. Jinder and Wade gasped in horror as the strawberry-blond Southerner burst out in clusters of laughter. The Latin man grabbed the waiter and yelled at him in Spanish. All everyone did in the restaurant was stare. Jinder slapped his forehead.  
  
“You are askin’ for it, Slater,” growled Wade.  
  
“We should leave,” Jinder said but the waitress gave them the check. “$65.34? Excuse me, miss?”  
  
“Yes?” she asked.  
  
The Indo-Canadian stared into her eyes. “The manager said the lunch was on him.”  
  
The waitress felt like her mind and body was on autopilot made by the emphatic pitches and sounds by Jinder Mahal as she tore up the check and chirped, “I’m so sorry, gentlemen. You’re all set.”  
  
Jinder smiled as he grabbed Heath by the arm and dragged him out of the restaurant. “But…” Heath whined. “Ah ain’t finished with mah food, man!”  
  
Wade scoffed as he wrapped up the half-eaten burger, ribs, bucket of chicken, and large bag of fries in gift wrapping tissue paper and dumped it in one of Heath’s shopping bags. “There!” he cried. “Now can we go before someone catches us?!”

The Southerner scofffed in disgust. "They gon' smell like barbecue sauce. What the hell?!"

"That's why we 'ave a washer and dryer at home, 'Eath!"  
  
As they walked towards the mall and near a food court, there was awkward silence until it was broken by Wade’s hand striking against the back of Heath’s head. His strawberry-blond locks fell from the hairtie and swayed wildly forward. “Ah!” cried the Southerner. “Why’d ya hit me for?!”  
  
“Do ya know whose fruit salad your bloody orbs helped explode?” growled the Englishman.  
  
“Naw, an’ Ah don’t even care 'bout that. That shit was funny as hell!”  
  
Suddenly, Heath was laughing loudly like a hyena at the image of the wealthy Latin with exploded fruit all over him. Wade and Jinder had enough of it. Just like the waitress at the restaurant, Jinder used his ability to make Heath stop laughing and control himself. The Englishman was impressed.  
  
“What just happened?” Heath asked as he shook his head and fixed his hair into a ponytail again.  
  
“That guy whom you blew his lunch up was Alberto Del Rio,” hissed Jinder.  
  
“Who in the blue hell is Alberto Del Rio?”  
  
“You don’t know who he is?” Wade raised an eyebrow. “Everyone knows who he is! He’s the Mexican version of Bruce Wayne, except he in'erited his wealth from his father. Guy controls a third of Miami, some tabloids think he’s some kind o’ mobster.”  
  
“Also,” Jinder added, “he’s a highly decorated motorcycle racer and athlete. He was gonna go to the 2000 Summer Olympics in Sydney, but Mexico didn’t have funds to send a wrestling team. Didn’t stop him from getting greedy with his money when he came here.”  
  
“So what if he’s some Mexican John Gotti?” scoffed Heath. “Can we focus on the entertainin’ part, where that fruit salad became a product of the one-man-bomb, BABY?!!”  
  
“Uh, can we not?” Wade retorted. “This is what I’m talkin’ about, Slater! Ya can’t go 'round blowin’ random things up with your orbs or blow your pheromones. It’s no bloody wonder you got kicked outta your own 'ometown!”  
  
“Don’t be bringin’ that up, you hear me?!" Heath slightly shoved the Englishman. "Ah moved out, there’s a difference!”  
  
“That type o’ reckless be'avior will get ya into serious trouble, or even killed!” Wade’s words stung Heath a bit more. “Think 'bout it, ya think those normies stand a chance sittin’ in ah room with us without 'em discriminatin’ us? The only way we’re able to live our lives in this society is to keep our powers to ourselves and out of the public.”  
  
They walked out of the mall and into the sidewalk. There was still silence amongst the three, until Heath’s mouth broke it this time. “Hey Jinder? Why didn’t we pay at the restaurant?”  
  
The three stopped and Jinder’s mouth fluttered like window blinds. “Yeah,” said Wade. “Ya said earlier that you sensed energy drainin’ from me, then when this daft ginger over 'er blew up someone’s lunch, you made the waitress tear up the check. And, you also made 'im shut up, which he should do more often—  
  
"After Ah sock you in yo’ mouth, that’s when Ah’m gon’ shut up!” Heath seethed.  
  
The Southern Ginger and the Englishman started to argue and call each other names until Jinder used his power once more to control them.  
  
“Wot just 'append?” cried Wade.  
  
“Yeah, I just 'made’ you and Heath shut up, like I 'made’ that waitress not charge us for lunch.” Jinder grinned widely.  
  
“So ya tell people wot to do, and boom, they’re under your command like some under mind control?”  
  
“Pretty much. Depends on my mood, and no, _Heath_ , I don’t use it to get girls! That would be considered rape!”  
  
Heath dropped his jaw as how Jinder could read what he was thinking. “You’re a telepath like this English gorilla over here?” he asked, getting a scoff from Wade.  
  
“Telepaths read and control minds. Empaths sense and control emotions.” Jinder explained. “For me, I can tell what everyone’s feeling, and if I want to, I can change that feeling. Same with manipulating people to do my bidding. Like with you two and the waitress. Once you’re in my command, it wears off quickly and you won’t remember what happened.”  
  
Heath’s eyes widened like a child. “Ohhh!! Okay!! So Ah got a free burger from all a this!”

The Indo-Canadian shoved him lightly. “Hell no, man! Just 'cause I saved your ass from a possible beat down by Alberto Del Rio, doesn’t mean you’re gonna get away with a $65 lunch.”  
  
“Ah’ll pay ya when we do this next gig tomorrow.” The Southern Ginger scoffed as he fixed his hair.  
  
“I hope so, because I’m not even feeling up to playing, now that we’ve been on weird monster-slaying duty.”

There was awkward silence. "Yeah, forgot about that," sighed Heath.  
  
The three stopped at a park and sat near a bench to relax. It was a nice day, despite that they lived in a place where it was always Summer. Meanwhile, Nightingale tiptoed around the park where there was more trees and less park security.  
  
“So Cougah wants me to paint a star on any object with this.” Nightingale sighed. She rolled her eyes at the trees. There was no way she was going to paint a star with nail polish! But she had no choice as she shook the small bottle, opened it, and carefully painted a glittery silver star on the trunk of the tree.  
  
Suddenly, like a parasite, the monster egg took control of its arbor host and the tree transformed into an Amazonian tree goddess (that looked like an extra in a 1970’s Blaxploitation movie). The monster had leaves and twigs for an afro, its bark turned into smooth milk chocolate skin, but had its wood ridges. Her fingers were from the branches, formed into feminine-like fingers.  
  
“Ooh, girl!” cried the monster. “How you doin’? Ooh girl I like yo’ hair. Where you get yours at?”  
  
“My hair is real, unlike yours,” Nightingale scoffed. “Look, I didn’t hatch you just so you can insult my hair. You’re here to snatch some pure heart crystals.”  
  
“So I gotta kill somebody?” the Tree Woman asked.  
  
“Uh, duh!”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“The talismans! Ugh! Just do your damn job!”  
  
They saw Wade coming out of the bathroom, then stared at each other. “That’s your target right there,” said Nightingale.  
  
“Damn, he’s fine!” cried the Tree Woman. “Now, that’s a man!”  
  
She approached the Englishman, blocking his path. She patted the bundle of leaves on her head that was her afro and placed her bark hand on her hip. “Where you goin’ with yo’ fine ass?” she asked.  
  
“To my wife,” Wade lied. He was not in a mood, especially dealing with Heath’s shenanigans.  
  
The Tree Woman stared at his hand. “I don’t see a ring. A fine-ass man like yo'self don’t look like the one-woman type, and you got a nice accent. I like that!”  
  
“I beg your pardon?!”  
  
“A good-lookin’ man like you with a fine accent must have a pure heart as well!”  
  
The Tree Woman slammed the Englishman to the wall of the bathroom and detached her feminine bark hands to pin his wrists to the concrete. Wade screamed in horror as the arbor monster began probing his chest with her power. He couldn’t use his telepathy to stun the Tree Woman, but he let his psychic pleas travel to where Heath and Jinder were sitting at in the park.  
  
Jinder felt a sharp pang in his head as he was the first to feel Wade’s cry. “You all right, man?” Heath asked in worry.  
  
“Wade’s in trouble!” the Indo-Canadian cried. “I could feel his life force draining.”

 

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED….**


	4. The Continuation of Our Heroes Getting Theirs Asses Whooped By A Tree: Who the Fuck Invited These Two Shadows to the Party?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation from the events left off at chapter three. Also, Drew’s cat-like curiosity pisses everyone in the house.

Jinder and Heath ran towards to the bathroom house, where they saw the Tree Woman attack Wade as she continued probing his chest. They hid behind another tree as they pulled out their transformation wands. “CANCER LUNAR POWER…MAKE-UP!!” Jinder cried.  

“VENUS STAR POWER…MAKE-UP!!” cried Heath.  

The Tree Woman finally extracted the pure heart crystal from Wade’s body as the Englishman lost consciousness.  "Hold it right there!“ yelled Vynus. "Who the hell you think you are tryin’ to mack on this man?”  

“Yeah, what part of, ‘he’s just not that into you’, don’t you understand?” added Kancer.  

“Y'all better back the fuck up!” yelled the Tree Woman, rolling her neck and clapping her bark hands. “Who the hell are you two supposed to be anyway?”  

“Ah’m Vynus, Warrior of Love an’ Beauty!” said Vynus.  "Except it's spelled with a 'y', because Ah cain't spell a damn thing!"

“And I’m Kancer with a 'K',” said Kancer, “the Warrior of Soul and Embrace!”  

“And in da name of the Moon, we shall…ROCK YOUR FACE!”  

Kancer scratched the back of his neck. “Dude, we gotta find a new catchphrase.”  

“Yeah, Ah agree,” Vynus sighed.  

The Tree Woman approached the two with her branches that was her arms and tried to attack them with them, but missed when Vynus and Kancer ducked and dodged. Vynus threw some of his orbs at her but missed her. Kancer tried to control her emotions, but since she was a tree, it didn’t work. “Vynus!” he cried. “I’m starting to feel bad about this.”  

“Why?” Vynus stopped what he was doing and glared at his friend.  

Kancer pointed to the arbor-like monster, who also stopped in utter confusion. “She’s a woman! A person who has feelings, and we’re taking advantage by attacking her!”  

“Hmmm-hum!” cried the Tree Woman, snapping her bark-fingers. “Tell him! Y'all got some nerve tryin’ to attack me. I ain’t even do a damn thing, but gettin’ a heart crystal.”  

Vynus slapped his forehead. “Ah can’t believe this! Kancer, are you on crack right now? That crazy-ass heifer ain’t no woman, but a goddamn tree, you hear me?!”  

“Oh no this redneck cracker didn’t just call me a heifer!” cried the Tree Woman.  

“Who the hell you callin’ a cracker?!”  

“You! With yo’ jive ass clothes and orange wig!”  

“Oh hell naw! Mah hair is real, unlike that dead bunch of leaves you call hair! And why you talkin’, when yo’ ass is one step closer to being cheap-ass furniture?”  

“Dayum!” Kancer laughed. “You owned her, Vynus!”  

“That’s it!” growled the Tree Woman. “I’m about to go HAM on y'all!”  

Just then, Nightingale appeared in the trees, upset that these two ruined the job. She ordered the Tree Woman to deal with Vynus and Kancer while she searched for more pure hearts. The Tree Woman turned around and was attacked by Vynus's orbs, blowing off her arms. “CANCER…SANDSTORM STRIKE!” Kancer yelled as a giant dust ball of sand attacked the arbor-like monster and quickly tended to Wade.  

“Oh hell naw!!” cried the Tree Woman. “You ain’t finna touch him! That’s my man! Looks like I’m gon’ get my roots involved.”  

“The hell ya are!” yelled Vynus as he raised his hands to the sky. “VENUS…LOVE CHAIN ENCIRCLE!!”  

The golden chain of light emerged from his hand and whipped the Tree Woman, but she shoved him out of the way and pinned Kancer to another tree like she did Wade. The branches depowered Kancer to his civilian form as he watched Vynus tackle the Tree Woman. But the Tree Woman was too much for Vynus as she pinned him to the wall with her detached bark hands next to a comatose Wade and depowered him to his civilian form. The Tree Woman cackled in joy as she grabbed Wade’s pure heart crystal.  

“You fuckin’ bitch!” yelled Heath. “Get yo’ hands off of Wade! You ain’t gon’ get away with it!!”  

“She’s getting away with that crystal that came from Wade!” cried Jinder.  

“Bye, boo!” the Tree Woman blew a kiss as she turned a heel and walked off. “Silly humans.”  

But suddenly…  

There was a bright yellow ball of energy spinning from out of nowhere and struck the Tree Woman, and she fell to her knees, dropping Wade’s pure heart crystal. As she tried to reach for it, another giant ball of energy, this time it was a neon blue-purple color, and it was made entirely of nuclear energy. The glowing ball swallowed the Tree Woman becoming an electric nuclear disaster, reverting her back into a tree. The branches that pinned the boys disappeared, and they ran over to Wade’s side where Heath tried to revive him.  

Up in the trees, were two mysterious-looking men. One of them held up Wade’s pure heart crystal.  He wore a dark blue cape that wrapped around his body, with an armored vest made of gold, a golden mask, and navy-blue shorts and boots.

“This ain’t a talisman!” he said in a disgusted tone.  

The other man shook his head as he looked at the two boys trying to save their friend. His attire was a tight jet-black leather jumpsuit with a chrome zipper slicing the front, black construction boots, black gloves, and spy goggles that complimented his long brown hair, which flowed past his shoulder-blades.  “Aye,” he said dismally. “They got teh wrong target, then.”  

“Waste of our time!”  

The man in the cape tossed Wade’s pure heart crystal back to the boys. As Heath held on to Wade in his arms, he saw the crystal disappeared into Wade’s chest. “Stay with me, man!’ cried Heath as tears fell from his eyes.  

Just then, Wade gasped as he opened his eyes and coughed. Heath breathed a sigh of relief as Jinder started bawling. "Ay, what’s the matter with you?” said Wade.  

“You’re all right, Wade!” cried Jinder. “I’m so happy!”  

“I’m gonna be fine, man,” Wade reassured the Indo-Canadian.  

“Does your head hurt?”  

“No.”  

“Are you itchy?”  

“Oh, for 'eavens sake, Jinder!” The Englishman was getting annoyed.  

Just then, Heath saw the mysterious men jump from the trees and disappearing. _What in the world?_ He thought.    

Later that night, the boys sat at the dining room table over a pot of cream of spinach, leek, and potato soup Jinder concocted. They sat and pondered about everything that happened in the last year since they acquired these magical powers, as well as Heath and Jinder getting stuffed cats. They also pondered about these monsters they were fighting. Where did they come from?  

“Looks like we 'ave the same enemy,” said Wade. “But they brought out the best in us this time.”  

“Yeah, that monster brought this woman with her,” Heath agreed. “They tried to kill you by takin’ yo’ pure heart crystal. What she called them, anyway…”  

“Why, though?” asked Jinder.  

The Southerner shrugged his shoulders as he grabbed another helping of the soup. “Ah don’t know, but it looks like somethin’s deep. All Ah can say is to watch our backs, because anyone livin’ in Miami may or may not walk 'round with one of 'em pure heart crystals, ya get me?”  

“Hmmfh,” Wade quipped, breaking a bit of saltines into his bowl. “For once the Redneck Ginger is right. We don’t know for sure what purpose they’re plannin’ to do with 'em. Be vigil'nte, if we must.”  

“Here we go again!” cried Jinder. “I hate playing the double bass and living a double life at the same time!”  

“Ah feel ya,” said Heath. “It’s like ever since we started fightin’ monsters left an’ right, our real lives been put on hold, an’ every time we go back, here come another one!”  

“Yup,” said Wade. “Like I said in the beginnin’, we were chosen to do this for a reason.”  

“Hey,” Jinder mused. “What about Drew and Sheamus?”  

“Oh yeah,” Heath gasped. “They still actin’ suspicious–  

"Who’s actin’ suspicious?” The boys heard a familiar Scottish accent lurking about.  

“Uh!” Wade stammered. “It’s nothin’, mate! We were talkin’ 'bout the laundry room downstairs. 'Eath thinks it’s ah rat.”  

“Ooh, I ain’t eaten since lunch, first off,” purred Drew. “I’ll check it out later, probably for a snack. Right nae…”  

The Scotsman turned to the kitchen cabinets and reached for a can of Friskies’ “oceanfish” flavored cat food. He walked back to the dining room, and sniffed the Crock-Pot sitting on the counter next to a chinaware cabinet. “Hey, Jinder,” he asked. “Whatcha got in teh pot?”  

“It’s creamed spinach, potato, and leek soup,” said Jinder. “Help yourself, man.”  

“Don’t mind if I do.”  

Drew grabbed a small bowl and ladled a big helping into it. He grabbed a spoon and a plate to fill Keebler Club crackers with before joining the others. He took the spoon full of soup to his mouth and sipped it. He let out an enjoying purr towards Jinder before finishing his bowl. Using his telekinesis, Drew made the bowl travel to the kitchen sink and made the tap water give it a quick rinse before traveling to the dish rack to dry. Heath’s eyes widen in astonishment, then propped his elbows on the table. “Man, when you gon’ wash the dishes like everybody else in this house?” he asked him, chin resting on his freckled knuckles.  

The longhaired Scotsman didn’t say a word, and the dining room remained saturated in awkward silence. The only sounds allowed to escape the awkwardness, was the can of Friskies cat food getting opened by razor-sharp werecat claws, the spoon spreading the contents onto the cracker, and Drew devouring it. The three boys stared at each other and shook their heads. A year and a half since he met the Scottish werecat, Heath could never get used to him eating cat food out of the can with a fork or crackers in his human form, or see him in his black cat form playing with his favorite toy mouse pretending it was one of his suspects.  

“So, how did yeh Christmas shoppin’ go?” Drew broke the silence, causing Heath to almost choke on his soup. “I smelled a familiar scent when I walked in teh house.”  

“YOU DIDN’T SMELL A DAMN THING!” the three boys all yelled at him.  

Drew let out a sigh as he devoured another cat food-topped cracker. He untied his long chestnut brown locks, letting his tousled waves flow past his shoulder-blades. “Hmm, so if I were tae check under teh tree—  

”'Less ya want ah fist across ya pretty Scotch lips!“ threatened Wade.  

Drew's dirty turquoise eyes stared at the Englishman in astonishment. "Man, what is with yeh and teh bloody threats?!" he yelled. "I just fuckin’ got home tae relax after a long day workin’ on a dangerous case at teh district—  

"Yeah, Wade!” Heath chimed in. “Shut up an’ leave him 'lone! He ain’t done nothin’ to ya!”

“I’ve just 'bout had it with ya today, 'Eath!” Wade yelled. “First ya cause ah scene—

"Now, ya listen here, Ah ain’t gotta take yo’ shit!”  

“Do nae treat 'im like a daft child, Wade!” yelled Drew. “I do nae knae hae many times I hae tae keep remindin’ ye tae back teh fuck off 'im!”

“Clear off, Scotch!” Wade yelled back, and that’s how dinner ended, with the three of them arguing like little kids while Jinder watched and place his hands over his face in shame.  

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Jinder yelled, without using his abilities this time. He took his dish to the kitchen sink and then stormed off, leaving the others in shock.  

Again, the room was in complete silence, and again it was broken when Drew grabbed his cat food and the rest of the crackers and headed to his room, letting Heath know, “Oh, Heath, I stole a chicken drumstick from yeh shoppin’ bag. I hope ye don’t mind.”    

“You didn’t look deep into the bag, did ya?” the Southerner folded his arms.  

“Nae, why would I do such a thing?” Drew smirked playfully, then added, “Oh, by teh way, that burger was good!”    

“Oh—Drew! What the hell, man?! Ask first! You always do this!”  

“Byee!”  

As Drew went upstairs to his room, Heath let out a loud sigh as he planted his hands on top of his head. “Man, Ah caint leave mah food out anywhere!” he whined. "He's a goddamn liar, too. Talkin' 'bout, 'Ah ain't eaten since lunch'!"

Wade snickered as he shook his head. “Ya can never hide anythin’ from that feline. Especially, the Holiday season and his birthday, he always finds ah way to find out.”    

“Ah don’t know why you laughin’ about it. Drew could’ve took a peek at yo’ bag an’ saw that toy wand with the bird hangin’ from it that’s he’s been wantin’.”  

Wade paused for a moment, and then when he caught Drew in his black cat form sneaking over to look into the bags, he chased him. “No, ya bloody don’t, mate!” he yelled as he picked him by the scruff of his neck, trying hard not to laugh. “I don’t care what measures it’ll take for you to find out, you will wait until Christmas like everyone else.”  

“Merrroooww!” Drew cried as he tried to swat his paw towards the Englishman.  

“Upstairs, now!” Wade placed the Scottish werecat at the foot of the stairs. He went into the living room to grab Heath’s food from his shopping bag.

“HISSS!”

“Gimme mah food!” Heath yelled as he grabbed the bucket of fried chicken and half-eaten burger and fries from Wade’s hands. “Wait…there were ribs in that bag!”  

“Don’t bloody look at me like that!” yelled Wade. “I 'aven’t touch’d it!”  

“Merrrae!!” cried Drew from the stairs.  

“Drew!” the Southern Ginger yelled as he chased the black cat upstairs. “Ah’m gon’ fuck you up for eatin’ mah food!”  

Drew scurried to Jinder’s bedroom, where he leaped onto his lap in surprise. The Indo-Canadian picked him up and yelled at Heath in Punjabi, “You fucking asshole, what’s wrong with you?! Picking on an innocent werecat like that?!”    

“Ah don’t know what the fuck you said,” Heath rolled his eyes. “But he ate mah food!”    

“Wade ate your ribs!” Jinder sighed. “I saw him!”    

Heath pouted then left, cursing under his breath. Drew let out a purr as he laid on Jinder’s bed, kneading the blankets. His elongated tail was twitching in content as Jinder shook his head. He picked up the werecat and kicked him out of his bedroom. “Get out, Drew!” he said, as he was sniffling and his eyes became runny.    

“Meow?” cried the Scots-cat.    

“You’ve caused enough trouble for tonight. I’m tired, and…AHCHOO—your fur makes me sneeze! Go to bed, man—I mean, cat!”    

_SLAMMM!!_

Drew hissed at the door and sauntered off into his bedroom…through the cat flap he installed when he, Sheamus, and Wade first bought the house six years ago. Meanwhile, Heath went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. There was a large strawberry cake waiting to be fed to Wade since the Englishman loved cake—all kinds of cakes, including strippers jumping out of one (and the strippers themselves). The Southern ginger smiled as he inserted one of his orbs into the cake, then closed the refrigerator before running back to his room. An hour later, Wade and Sheamus had their evening tea and cake when Wade grabbed the giant pink cake from the refrigerator. “Ain’t she ah beauty?” he smiled, getting a scowl from the Irishman.    

“Cut the damn thing, will yer?” Sheamus rolled his eyes.    

Suddenly, as the knife’s blade touched the surface of the dessert, it trembled, then…  

_KASPLAT!!!_

There was cake…all over Wade, and Sheamus howled in hysterical laughter, until he fell off his chair. The Englishman just had it with Heath. Just had enough of it.    

“SLATER!!!” He roared as he ran up the stairs to beat up the Southerner, but was stopped by Drew, who was back in his human form, woken up by the exploding cake downstairs. Heath was already in his boxing stance, waiting for Wade to make the first move.    

“Enough!!” Drew screeched. “Both o'yeh grow up! We gonna bloody keep doin’ this all night?! Gods! Wade, go wash up!”    

“Yes, Mummie Dear'st!” Wade growled before he received a hard punch on the arm. “Ow!! Bloody 'ell, Galloway!”  

“Ye wanna start with meh, nae?”  

The Englishman growled as he went into the bathroom and slammed the door. “Where ye think yeh goin’?” Drew yelled at Heath, who was sneaking back into his bedroom. “Yeh gonna go downstairs an’ clean up teh mess ye made!”    

“C'mon, man!” whined Heath. “Wade done ate up mah ribs!”    

The Scotsman growled. “Ye ruined meh catnap!”  

“You the one who started this whole drama to begin with, by eatin’ up mah food an' lyin' 'bout it!”  

“GO CLEAN UP TEH FUCKIN’ KITCHEN, HEATH!!” Drew’s accent began to thicken.  

Then, the Scottish werecat zapped a bolt of electricity from his finger towards Heath’s behind, and that made the ginger run down the stairs.  

Heath grabbed the paper towels and the bottle of Mr. Clean and went to the kitchen, where he found Sheamus on the floor still laughing. He threw the paper towel at him. “You gon’ help me clean this up!” he yelled.

"Huh?" asked Sheamus. "What'd I do?"

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	5. This is Where our Heroes Get Left For Dead by Two Elitist "Warriors": Dogs hate Werecats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3MB performs at Sheamus’ bar. Heath and Jinder volunteer to help their young neighbor find homes for a litter of puppies, but the neighbor ends up being The Ravens’ next target. And who the fuck are these mysterious solders, and why wouldn’t they help out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some interactive-ness in this fic. Just click the link in text to see the song 3MB stol....er, I mean covered.

St. Patrick’s Day came around, and 3MB was practicing their songs for their gig at Sheamus’ bar. They found some room to rehearse in the garage. They made it extremely sound-proof by stapling old egg cartons and house insulation. With Drew’s help (by zapping and manipulating the electric system), the amps and microphones worked in fine shape. The boys lived in the Model City (also known as Liberty City) neighborhood of Miami, which was predominately African-American, and mostly of low-economic status. It was known for violent crimes, but really, the only cause of violence, systemic or not, was racism and classism. Even though he assumed it was because Drew wanted to be closer to work, Heath was happy that he was given a clean bed (that the old roommate left) and lots of space in his bedroom for his belongings.

Most of their gigs, 3MB played covers from Hole, Guns N’ Roses, The Gits, The Distillers, and Sleater-Kinney. Heath was the frontman, Drew played bass and (sometimes) lead guitar, and Jinder played drums. The other half of the time, they would play their own songs, with strange lyric titles such as “Hot Mustard (On the Hot Dog)”, “The Ballad of Yamamoto”, “Candy Crush DUI”, and “Pizza Trafficking”. The day before their gig at the bar, 3MB were practicing their songs when a little African-American boy from the neighborhood entered the garage on his bicycle with a basket. 

“Hey, what’s that you playin’?” he asked them.

“Huh?” cried Heath, then stared at his guitar. “Oh! It’s just a lil’ rock n’ roll!” 

_CRRAAASHAA!!_

“Jinder!” Heath turned to Jinder banging on the cymbals. “Mah ear, man!"

“My bad!” giggled Jinder, plastering a sheepish grin across his face.

“Y'all spit rhymes, too?” said the little boy, whom Drew referred to him as Lavonte.

“Naw,” said Heath. “We just like to sing the words.”

“What brings ye o'er here, lad?” It was Drew’s turn to speak.

“Oh, Big Mama wants me to give away these.” The boy opened the basket and a couple of five-week old beagle puppies tried to escape. Drew started hissing at them before shifting into his black cat form and jumping on top of a tool cabinet, knocking wrenches and screwdrivers to the concrete floor. Then, Jinder started to sneeze.

“I didn’t know you was a werecat, Sergeant Galloway!” Lavonte cried in astonishment. “Cool!”

“Who don’t get along with dogs, Ah’m afraid,” sighed Heath, who grabbed the Scottish werecat from the tool cabinet. “What’s your deal, man? They ain’t gon’ do nothin’ to ya!”

“Yip, yip!” cried the puppies, trying to escape from the basket.

“RRROOOOOWWWWLLLLLARRGGGHH!” Drew growled in defense, the last sound of his growling was similar to that of a cheetah’s.

“Drew!” Heath yelled as he tried to restrain him. “C'mon now, be nice!"

“RROOWWLARGG!! HIISSSSS!!”

They told Lavonte that they couldn’t keep the puppies if they wanted to, seeing how Drew reacted to them (and dogs in general). The boy frowned as he closed the basket, but Jinder reassured him, “I’m pretty sure there are other people around that can take them.”

“Yeah, Ah mean we have our own issues here,” said Heath raising Drew up. “He eats up the entire house if you let him.”

“Meooowwww!” cried Drew, but Jinder stuffed a cat treat in his mouth to keep him quiet (before sneezing).

“If you want,” Heath continued, “we can help you find them a home. We could even help feed ‘em and all. Ask yo’ grandma if we could help you.”

“Thank you.” Lavonte smiled.

“Merae!” protested Drew.

“They ain’t gon’ stay here, hush up!”

Lavonte heard his grandmother calling for him a couple of houses down the street. “That’s my Big Mama, I finna go. Bye.”

As the boy left, Drew shifted back into his human form still a bit shaken up from his encounter with the puppies. Jinder and Heath started giggling. “Hahahah!!” The Scotsman retorted. “Why’re we doin’ this? Ye knae I hate dogs with a passion. Hell, I hae tae put up with teh bloody K-9 Unit at work!”

Suddenly, he used his telekinesis to retrieve the bag of cat treats and stormed off. “Hey!” yelled Heath. “We got a couple more songs we have to practice, man!”

"And don’t eat all those cat treats, Drew!” Jinder scolded. “I’m making pot roast for dinner tonight!”

“Fuck off!” hissed Drew as he munched on a cat treat and went into the house.

“WAAAAHHHHH!!!” The Indo-Canadian sobbed hysterically. “You don’t have to talk to me like that, asshole!”

“Oh, that’s real nice!” scoffed Heath. “You done made Jinder cry! Ya happy now, Drew?!”

Two days later, after constant arguing, fighting, and reconciliation from all three members of 3MB, Wade, and Sheamus (Who had to kick Drew’s ass for making Jinder cry), Heath noticed the stuffed white cat lying on his bed. “Now, what do you want from me this time?” The Southern ginger sighed as he unzipped the back of the plushie and found an orange-colored smartwatch. “Oohhh! Weeee!! Is this a Sony Smartwatch? You didn’t steal this, did ya?”

The plushie feline didn’t say a word, and Heath realized that he was talking to a stuffed animal. _You’ve been partyin’ too damn hard, Heath!_ He thought.

“Cool, Ah got me a new watch!” he squealed. “Now, how d'ya turn this thing on?”

He pressed the side button to where it said “Hi, Heath!” on the screen, before the Venus glyph and many apps appeared. The watch started ringing, and the strawberry-blond hesitantly answer it.

 _“Heath!”_ cried Jinder when his face popped up on the screen.

The Southern ginger shrieked and fell on the floor. “Jinder!” he gasped. “You scared me! Heeyy…you got a smartwatch too!”

_“Yeah! The black stuffed cat was on my bed and I found it. Isn’t this cool? It’s like how the Power Rangers had back in the day, but better. You can do everything with it like you do with a smartphone!”_

“Ah know, right? We can also write out our lyrics for the band, baby!”

Just then, there was silence caused by a scratch on the record player (sound effect, folx), then some awkward tension. _“Lyrics on these?”_ asked Jinder. _“What if Drew finds out?” ___

“Right…” Heath agreed. “Knowin’ Drew, he’ll be profilin’ us an’ start askin’ questions. Sheamus, too. He might even tell Drew. Ah think we should keep these bad boys away 'less me an’ you are goin’ out.”

_“Like going to take care of the puppies we promised Lavonte?”_

Heath slapped his forehead. “We were 'posed to do that today?”

_“You forgot?”_

“Ah thought it was next week! Ah’m sorry, man! Fuckin’ Drew got me so mad.”

_“Yeah, Lavonte’s grandmother called and asked. Said to meet them after they had church.”_

Suddenly, another “call” came onto Heath’s smartwatch, and it was Wade with a shit-eating grin across his face. He told them to meet him at the same church Lavonte and his grandmother attend.

“Since when do you go to church?” Heath asked.

_“Since when is it bloody okay for you to ask me whether or not I believe in ah 'igher power?”_ scoffed Wade.

“Ah dunno, Wade. You’ve been starin’ off into the stove lately. Ya sure you ain’t been smokin’?”

_“Listen, ginger-bollocks, quit askin’ me questions an’ get o'er 'ere!”_ Wade growled.

Later that afternoon, Nightingale went to Lavonte’s church and blended into the predominantly African-American congregation. She wore a very conservative, sleeveless purple dress and a matching sunhat. As the Pastor of the church began his sermon, Nightingale painted a new monster egg between the pages of a bible. “That kid with the dogs, he’s got a pure heart.” She whispered onto the bible. “But awaken when this service is done with.”

“Are you all right, honey?” said an elderly woman sitting beside her.

“Yeah, yeah!” she nervously responded. “Just reading the bible a bit too loudly. My bad.”

The elderly woman raised an eyebrow at her, then turned to face the Pastor. Nightingale rolled her eyes at her and scoffed as used her fan to cool off. _Why is it so hot out?_ She thought. _I hope this makeup stays and that I don’t come out of this place with sweaty armpits. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that kebob sandwich. My body doesn’t respond to garlic and tahini sauce too well._

When the service was over, Nightingale snuck out of the church, avoiding any conversation with some of the congregation members, as well as the Pastor (possibly flirting with her) asking her invasive questions about her religious background. When everyone left, Lavonte and his grandmother remained seated in the pews waiting for Heath and Jinder to arrive. Just then, Lavonte saw the bible Nightingale had left glowing about and picked it up. The bible transformed into (a carbon copy of a Westboro Baptist Church member) and laughed manically.

“Big Mama!” Lavonte cried to his grandmother and ran towards her.

“What is that?” His grandmother cried.

The monster roared as it turned toward Lavonte. “You need to repent your sins and give your pure heart to me!”

It unbuttoned its blouse to reveal a black lip print. Energy shot though the lip print, heading towards the boy, but his grandmother stood in front of her grandson with a bottle of Holy Water. “You stay away from my grandbaby, vile child of Satan!” she screamed as she sprayed holy water at it. “You in the Lord’s house! Now get on out of here!”

The bible monster screamed as the water burned through its skin. The elderly woman turned to her grandson and said, “Call 911.”

She started fainting and Lavonte ran towards her. “Leave my grandmama alone!”

“God hates you!” the monster opened its blouse again and zapped energy towards the boy. The boy started screaming in pain as he felt his life being sucked into the pages of the bible monster (literally).

Suddenly, Heath, Jinder, and Wade arrived at the church and saw Lavonte in trouble. “You ready, boys?” asked Wade.

“Ready when you are, darlin’,” Heath sweetened his Southern drawl into sarcasm.

The Englishman growled at him and pulled out his transformation wand. “I’m goin’ to pretend I didn’t ‘ear that tone o’voice. MARS STAR POWER…MAKE-UP!”

“CANCER LUNAR POWER…MAKE-UP!” Jinder shouted, waving his transformation wand.

Heath was the last to raise his transformation wand in the air. “VENUS STAR POWER…MAKE-UP!!”

As the monster tried to suck the pure heart crystal from Lavonte, it was stopped by Kancer, Vynus, and Aryes, who let it know that they were a force to be reckoned with (whatever that meant, anyway). “BURNIN’…MANDALA!!” cried Aryes as he attacked the monster with several rings of fire.

“CANCER…BUBBLE BLAST!” Kancer cried out, using his power.

The bible monster cackled, using its energy to slam Kancer and Aryes to the pews. “God doesn’t like meddlin’ warriors!”

“An’ God don’t like hatemongers who mess with little boys an’ old ladies!” yelled Vynus as he attacked the monster with his power. “VENUS…LOVE CHAIN ENCIRCLE!!”

The bible monster broke the love chain that imprisoned it, then chokeslammed Vynus to where Kancer and Aryes were lying at. “Get ya bloomin’ arse from my face!” yelled Aryes, shoving the strawberry-blond love warrior.

“Ow! Mah bad!” whined Vynus, clutching his neck.

“The enemy’s too strong!” cried Kancer. “What are we going to do?”

The monster scoffed at the three warriors as it turned to Lavonte and zapped its beam of energy again, this time finally succeeding in extracting the heart crystal from him. The boy laid against his grandmother, who was still unconscious. “Nice,” it said, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure Cougah and Nightingale will be pleased with the results.”

Out of the blue, the three warriors saw the yellow beam of light attacking the monster and causing the ground to crack open like an earthquake. It was followed by neon blue-purple light made of nuclear energy, converting it into raw electricity as it struck the Bible Monster, disintegrating it into pages as the church was swept up in a blinding white hot light like an atomic bomb. Vynus saw the same energy that killed the last monster during the Holidays. The lights of the church blew out, and all the three soldiers could see were a pair of spy goggles lighting up in the balcony, along with pale skin and a shiny, golden mask. “That was too easy,” the warrior with the pale skin and golden mask scoffed.

They jumped from the balcony and to the floor. The warrior with the pale skin and golden mask grabbed the pure heart crystal and inspected it. “Hae is it?” the other warrior, wearing the spy goggles, asked.

“This ain’t a talisman. Let the lad keep it.” The soldier with the pale skin threw the heart crystal back into Lavonte’s lifeless body.

Aryes stared at the two soldiers walking towards the entrance. He could make out the one wearing spy goggles being tall, and having long brown hair down his back, but not the other one, despite his pale skin. Just then, the bible reformed itself into the monster, and it was stronger than ever. As the two mysterious soldiers tried to leave the church, Vynus yelled, “Hey, where you two goin’? The enemy is still ‘live! You gotta help us fight it!”

The warrior with the pale skin and golden mask scoffed, “Who said we were gonna help ya? We ain’t interested in joinin’ yer three fellas. We’re only interested in gettin’ the talismans.”

“Aye, yeh grown men,” the warrior with the glowing spy goggles agreed. “Solve yeh own fights.”

They disappeared, magically turning the church back to normal, and Aryes was livid. “Bloody ‘ell! Who do those two arrogant fuckers think they are? I can tell from their accents they’re Celtic scum!”

“Don’t be cussin’ in the Lord’s house, Aryes, you hear me?” warned Vynus.

“Ah, shuddup!”

Vynus shoved him out of the way as the bible monster threw its beam of energy towards him. Suddenly, a bright, alabaster light struck and paralyzed the bible monster. The Soldiers heard a bicycle bell ringing and directed their attention to Vynus’ white stuffed cat sitting in one of the pews. “Vynus!” Kancer yelled at the Love Soldier. “Can’t you leave it at home? This is not a good time to be playing around!”

“Hey, Ah ain’t the only one with a stuffed cat!” Vynus shouted, causing Kancer to gasp. “Ah thought so!”

He picked up the stuffed cat and unzipped the back as if he had done this a million times. He took out a roll of paper and opened it:

 

> _**Dear Vynus,** _
> 
> _**I paralyzed the monster temporarily so that I can tell you of your destiny. You, Kancer, and Ayres are the reincarnated souls of the Secret Service of Queen Yemaya, Lady of the Moon, during a period in time called the Onyx Millennium. Everything shall be explained later, but right now, a dark incarnate is set to destroy this planet. Your mission is to prevent that from happening. An evil organization is hiding out in Miami called The Ravens. They are the source of releasing this unknown entity. Here’s the Sword of Adonis. In order to defeat the enemy, Rock N’ Roll is the way.** _
> 
> _**In solidarity,** _
> 
> _**Eros, your guardian familiar** _
> 
> _**PS: Kancer, tell your guardian familiar, Juno, to fuck off.** _
> 
>  

  
“Who the fuck is Juno?” asked Kancer.

“That ugly-ass black stuffed cat you got at home!” Vynus stuck his tongue out.

“Yeah? Well, your stuffed cat’s gay!” Kancer hissed.

“How in the world you ain’t a bigot when you just called my cat gay?”

“You called my cat black! You got something against…Cats of Color?”

“Kancer, yo’ stuffed cat _is_ black!”

“You’re doing it again! Who’s the fucking bigot now? I guess Drew is just a black werecat to you, huh?”

“Whoa…what? Drew is Scottish, what does he have to do with anythin’?”

Kancer led out an experated sigh and folded his arms. “Don’t even—just shut the fuck up, Vynus!”

“You shut the fuck up!”

Aryes just sat on the pews and sighed. Why was he chosen to work with these two idiots, he had no clue. As the Bible Monster slowly mobilized itself, Aryes sent a telepathic stinging to Vynus and Kancer, causing them to shriek slightly. “Ya two gits goin’ to fight like a couple o’ children,” he yelled at them, “or are ya gonna defeat this monster?”

Vynus pulled the Sword of Adonis from the back of Eros. The zipper on the stuffed cat disappeared, and the sword glowed in his hands. “All right, ya ol’ heathen!” he pointed the sword at the bible monster. “Your lil’ street preachin’ minutes are over!”

“You here to repent your sins and be saved in the name of the Lord?” screeched the bible monster.

Suddenly, Vynus pointed the Sword of Adonis at the monster and chanted, “In the name of Venus, Ah call upon the guardians of Love an’ Beauty to banish this evil.”

Then, he flipped the sword a few times before playing an air guitar solo on it. “VENUS…ROCKIN’ HEART…VIIIII…BR-RATION!!” he yelled and a bright orange light made of stars (and musical notes) struck the monster and restored it to its bible form.

Later in the night, after taking Lavonte’s grandmother to the hospital to get checked out, Heath, Jinder, and Wade headed over to Sheamus’ bar. Drew was sitting at the bar having a beer as he and Sheamus started chatting. The boys walked up to them. “Hey, thought ye couldnae make it tonight!” cried Drew. “I was gettin’ worried.”

“We had to take Lavonte’s grandma to the hospital,” Jinder explained.

“Ohmehgods, she alright?”

Jinder lied to him, making sure Drew didn’t detect it right away. “Yeah, she forgot to take her insulin and passed out at church. Luckily, we got there in the nick of time.”

The Scot sniffed the boys. “I’ll say. Teh three o’ yeh smell like dog."

Heath scoffed at him. "So," he retorted. "What's your point?"

“Relax, Drew!” laughed Sheamus. "I don't mind having a few guests stay over."

Drew growled. "Yeh nae bringin’ em home, an’ yeh nae leavin’ em at a pound. End o' discussion! This isn’t funny! Ye knae I hate dogs with a—

"And you deal with the K9 unit at work!” they all yelled at the Scot. “We get it!”

“Anyway,” said Heath. “Sheamus, can Ah have a Miller Light?”

“Yer still owe me fer the last pints!” yelled Sheamus.

“You said they were on you! And you were so drunk—

"Okay, okay!” The Irishman poured the tap and handed it to him. “One pint.”

“Don’t drink too much, Heath!” said Jinder. “We have to perform.”

“Ah ain’t gonna, man!” Heath snorted. “Remember the rule we made: No drinks before the show.”

And several beers (and shots of tequila) later, 3MB, Sheamus, and Wade were so drunk, they were loud and chatty. Sheamus almost got in trouble with his boss for drinking with them. The Irishman had to yell at Drew and Wade for being excessively British. “Hey, I’m Scottish!” yelled the werecat. “Get 'at right!”

“When ya lose,” Wade laughed.

“Fuck ye, English! We made ye our bitch seven-hundred years ago, do nae think fae once we won’t do it again!”

As Drew and Wade started drunkenly trash-talking each other’s countries, Heath approached a woman by the bar, who rejected his advances. So, Heath tried flirting with a man, and followed him into the bathroom. Then he flirted with another woman and he fucked her and the guy he was fucking eariler in the bathroom. As Sheamus approached the stage, Jinder searched high and low for the Southerner before he went into the bathroom and dragged him out with his pants unzipped. “Ah’ll call ya!” Heath said to them, grinning.

“Will you stop?!” Jinder yelled. “And zip up your pants, you little slut!”

“Ohhkay, goddamn, you’re worse than Wade, except he takes it overboard!” scoffed Heath as he fastened his pants and followed Jinder to join Drew on stage.

Sheamus got on the stage to introduce them. “Ladies and gents,” he cleared his throat, “Yer ready fer some Rock 'n Roll? I got three lads behind me that will give it to ya good! Here they are, Heath, Jinder, and Drew, 3MB!”

“All right!” yelled Heath. “[First song’s a Distillers one](https://youtu.be/MIGcpQ_E_Uk?t=17s). Ah’m just gonna tweak the lyrics a bit because Ah ain’t from Melbourne…Florida, that is.”

The crowd started laughing.

“Ah-one, ah-two, ah-one, two, three!” They started playing.

_“Are you ready to be liberated, on this sad side city street?”_ sang Heath.

His stage presence was not only seductive and Courtney Love-like, but comforting in a bad ass, Southern boy-next-door way. Though at times, Wade found Heath annoying, he was amazed at his singing and how the audience fell head over heels in lust with him. He was also amused at how Drew tries to hide away when playing bass. Or just playing with the band. He knew Drew could be a bit reticent, but must he be so cold and emotionless?

_“Well the birds have been freed from their cages. Ah got freedom and mah youth. Name’s Heath Slater. Ah’m from Pineville. Mountain mama, West Virginia. Ah grew up on Park Street, then on Cedar Street. Mama kicked out daddy for battery. Found a way-y! She found a way outta spiritual penury. Workin’ single mother in an urban struggle. Blames herself now ‘cause Ah grew up troubled. It hit me. Ah got everythin’ Ah neeeed!”_

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	6. Discussing the "Mission" while Doing an Actual Police Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dealing with a case involving a serial predator, Drew spends his lunch break with Sheamus playing the violin. There, they discuss the other mission they've been on for some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click on links in text for music!

The weather in Miami was a sweltering ninety degrees Fahrenheit. That Tuesday afternoon had a little chance of rain, but the gods didn’t feel like cooling the city down. However, the heat didn’t stop Drew from leading his team on a case involving a serial predator who would prey on children ten to twelve years of age, mostly Latino and from low-income, single family homes.  If the child refused his company, the Perpetrator would drug them with a strong sedative before murdering them, usually by blunt-force trauma with a hammer. It was already 2:30pm. In one hour, school would be over for the day, and the investigators knew through precise victimology the Perp would pick his next victim.

But, there was a slight change in the victimology when it came to schools. The victims attended elementary schools south of or in the Little Haiti neighborhood. Now, the Perp decided to check out middle schools, and that’s when everything came into play. The Behavioral Intelligence Unit planned to pursue the Perp and save his latest victim by going undercover. Drew’s team consisted of Officer Wozniak, Detective Renee Young, Twin detectives Jimmy and Jey Fatu, Detective Naomi Knight, and Detective Kofi Kingston, who was their technical analyst. They got an anonymous tip from a woman who had a niece attending Miami Edison Middle School in Little Haiti. The woman explained that she would see a beat-down Lincoln sitting in the parking lot suspiciously for the entire day.

Drew and his team set up around the middle school, and since Wozniak was still new to the Unit, he had to stay with the Scottish werecat in the car as Naomi set up her snow-cone cart on the sidewalk and displayed the syrups and boxes of candy for the kids to see. Renee disguised herself as a crossing guard, while the twins set up surveillance by sneaking onto the school’s rooftop with a rifle and binoculars in case the Perp tried something.

The suspicious Lincoln arrived on the parking lot in Naomi’s plain sight. “Go fae Galloway,” Drew responded on his two-way.

“Sarge, I have clear view of the suspect,” said Naomi.

“Do ye see teh plates?”

“Negative. Can’t make out the plate.”

The bell started to ring, and a man came out of the Lincoln watching the door as a crowd of students exited the building like a school of fish. Some got on school buses, others walked home, and some headed towards Naomi’s cart, buying snowcones, giant pickles, and candy.

“I have clear sight of the suspect,” said Renee. “Suspect is Hispanic, late twenties, white shirt, blue jeans, unarmed. He is in front of the building.”

“We see him,” said Jimmy. “Suspect is approaching a female, Hispanic. Victim is following the Suspect into his car. He’s heading your way.”

The Lincoln left the parking lot, passing by Drew and Wozniak.

“Ten-four, we’re in pursuit of suspect now,” said Wozniak.

Drew and Wozniak followed the suspect to a house south of the school. “Wozniak,” Drew ordered him. “Call fae backup, we don’t knae what this guy is up tae.”

Wozniak called for the other detectives and units before raising his gun and followed the Scotsman to the house. “MIAMI PD!” Drew yelled as he banged on the door. “OPEN THIS BLOODY DOOR!”

He heard a child screaming, so Drew kicked down the door and pointed the gun at the Perp, who had the eighth grader in his bed, scared. The Perp picked up the knife and pointed at Drew and Wozniak. “DROP THE KNIFE!” yelled Wozniak. “OR I SHOOT!”

“Drop teh knife, step away from teh girl, and put yeh hands up!” Drew ordered.

As the Perp lunged towards them, Drew zapped a bolt of electricity at him like a taser gun, causing him to collapse. Wozniak cuffed him as Drew took the girl outside to where the rest of his team. Naomi and Renee took her to their car.

When they got back to their district, the team began their interrogation, and even called the girl’s mother. When all was said and done, the team went to their cubicles, looking forward to their shifts to be over. Drew came out of his office with a violin case strapped to his back as he passed his team. “Where you goin’?” Naomi asked him.

“I’m on break,” Drew smiled.

The team protested about their shifts to be over.

“C’mon, Sarge!” said Jey. “We tired and it’s hot out! We done got this guy in custody.”

The Scotsman turned to face them, freezing them with his dishwater turquoise eyes. “Yeh here fae a reason: Figurin’ out why this man likes tae touch and kill children, and re-do victimology. If yeh that desperate tae go home, maybe teh lot o’ yeh should consider transferin’ tae another unit. I’m nae in here tae lead a team o’ detectives who are too bloody scared tae take risks and think outside teh box. People with that kind o’ lazy mentality are teh ones who let these criminals go be’ween teh cracks, and ev’rybody loses.”

Everyone didn’t say a word, but gazed into the coldness that made Drew Galloway the best profiler in the City of Miami Police Department. The Scottish werecat untied his long brown hair and placed his sunglasses on. “I want leads, and I want tae see that whiteboard filled up. And, give Kingston somethin’ tae do while I’m gone.” Drew said, again, his voice cold and domineering. “Let’s go, ladies and gentlemen!”

Just then, Drew slammed the door on the team, Jimmy turned to his twin brother and scolded him for opening his mouth and getting everyone into trouble. They also pondered what was in their sergeant’s violin case before getting together to talk about their file. When Drew got out of the District, he saw Sheamus waving at him. They got into Drew’s car and headed to Bayfront Park in Downtown Miami.  

In several months, Heath had gotten fired from every job he could get in Miami. When he and Jinder started living with Drew, Sheamus, and Wade the first year, it was rent-free. Jinder always paid a lower portion of the mortgage due to him working at his Indian Bakery and taking care of his father, while cooking and buying groceries for the boys. Heath, however, had promised to pay for his room and board by trying to gain employment, but had come up short, or unlucky. Wade was getting sick of the Southern ginger being lazy and a freeloader. There would be arguments between the two every night, with Drew being mediator using his fists in case.

Instead of finding a job, Heath decided to go back to being a sex worker on the streets of Miami. It did bring some financial relief, but it didn’t last long when he had to keep hiding from the cops. He had been arrested for prostitution in his home state of West Virginia in the past. He didn’t want to go through that again in Florida. What if Drew found out? He was a police sergeant, after all.

He eventually found work as a barista at a downtown Starbucks. He was honest about his past stints in jail, but they hired him, anyway, seeing that he had good credit and was a good worker on the first day. He was at Bayfront Park downtown with Wade and Jinder (Who were on their breaks from their jobs), who freaked out when…

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU GOT FIRED AGAIN?!” they yelled at the Southern ginger who sat on a bench in his former employer’s trademark green visor and apron. His strawberry-blond hair was tied up in a messy ponytail with a few strands sticking to his sweaty face. He was drinking a 40oz bottle of beer, too drunk to give a fuck about anything. He was too drunk to even care about the weather as the temperatures rose to above ninety degrees.

“Just like Ah said,” he began, “Ah got fired, an’ boy, am Ah so glad! Y'all don’t know how miserable Ah was workin’ there. Every day, Ah get customers wantin’ somethin’ fancy like a venti blondie roast with cherry an’ soy. What in the blue hell is a goddamn blondie roast? Ah thought coffee’s ‘posed to be black. No, you ain’t gettin’ a blondie roast. You gettin’ a fuckin’ latte like everybody else!”

Wade and Jinder all rolled their eyes and just listened to the Southern ginger blab. “Just what exactly did you get fired for this time, Heath?” Jinder asked.

“Well, when Ah started prostitutin’ all them summer nights,” Heath began. “Ah met this john. He was a lawyer, good-lookin’ with tattoos. He used to pay me $150, plus a small motel room for sex an’ a sixty-nine.”

He took another swig of his beer and grinned as he reminisced about those hot nights he spent with that john. He sighed. “Ah tell ya, them $150 was worth it cos his ten-inch dick—

"GET TO THE PART WHERE YA GOT FIR’D!” Wade yelled in disgust.

“Okay, okay! So, the past three months, Ah get this woman, who thinks she some Southern Belle trophy wife. She comes in orderin’ a mocha frappucchino an’ a cinnamon bun. Every. Day. An’ she got like OCD or somethin’ cos she wanted her frappucchino with a lot of milk. She hated coffee. If she hated coffee, why couldn’t she get the other drinks that were coffee-free? Anyway, so Ah’m fixin’ her drink, and she goes, 'Hey, Ah heard you like that six-nine.’ Ah’m like, ‘What do you mean by that?’ Then she keeps on an’ on about legal stuff an’ sex positions. Come to find out the lawyer was married to that bimbo! Guess she cared about her fake tits than takin’ care of her man. Ah was so mad! So today, she came in an’ ordered the usual with that fake-ass smile, and that’s when Ah put one of mah orbs into her drink. She goes out, then all a sudden, everybody heard the loudest scream, an’ she comes in drenched in her drink, her makeup be runnin’ down her face. She starts cussin’ me out, callin’ me a freak redheaded faggot bitch. So Ah cuss her ass out back! Then the manager caught me and fired me. So Ah’m like, ‘Fine, fire me! Gimme mah last paycheck and the last couple of months you forgot to pay me because so an’ so didn’t feel like workin’, an’ Ah gotta take over his hours, plus overtime.’ Ah’m glad Ah left when it got outta hand, cos Ah woulda ended up punchin’ one of mah coworkers in the face. He ain’t nothin’ but a goddamn whorephobe, homophobic racist motherfucker who be talkin’ smack about the Black workers in that place. All this cos Ah sucked that lawyer john’s dick for $150.”

Jinder and Wade were livid and speechless. Then Heath started to beg to give him one more chance, which pissed off Wade more. Jinder fixed his white turban on his head and said, “I have to ask my dad if you can work at the bakery—

“Jinder, what are you doin’?” hissed Wade, shaking his shoulders. "Imagine this ginger workin’ at your bakery. Knowin’ 'is 'istory, 'Eath could make the 'ealth inspectors come in.”

“Just what the hell you gettin’ at, Wade?” Heath hissed at him. He was livid.

All of a sudden, Wade stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re immature and irresponsible! We ‘ave given ya every single opportunity to find somethin’ to financially support yourself.  Even if I were to even git ya a job as some janit’r, you’d blow it away like ya norm’ly do to those dirty perverts ya get paid from.”

The Englishman stuck his tongue out again and walked off. Heath folded his arms and scoffed. “Immature?” he yelled back. “You’re way past thirty an’ you resort to act like a little kid stickin’ yo’ tongue out. An’ you better take back what you just said! Least Ah’m gettin’ some THAN YOU WOULD EVER GET IN YO’ LIFE!!”

Then the Southern ginger flipped a couple of birds and blew a raspberry. “Heath!” Jinder yelled. “Jeez, can you really say all that? Okay, I thought what Wade said just now was unnecessary and fucked up, but he does have a point. You come home drunk and high on weed every night. You don’t pay any of the bills, you’re loud as hell, and you and Drew eat up all the food in the house, minus the cat food Drew eats. I’m not saying that you’re lazy since you do try to find work, but lying about where you’re working at and not telling us when you get fired until you actually get fired, not cool, man. Oh, and when we call you out on it, you blame other people for your actions, and honestly, I’m getting really sick of it. You need to stop!”

Heath just opened his mouth.

“Heath, are you listening to a word I’m saying?”

All a sudden, Heath just screamed, punched Jinder across his lip, causing his turban to fall out of place, and walked off yelling. “Ow!” whined Jinder. “Fucker! I didn’t think he would take this to heart.”

Heath was livid. He walked down the park and found a garbage can to throw away his beer bottle. He would’ve put up with Wade’s mouth, but Jinder? Of all people? _Who the hell those two think they are?_ He thought. _Ah’ll show them. They don’t even know me like that, an’ they gotta right to judge me? Fuck them!_

Meanwhile, at a small amphitheatre inside the park, Drew and Sheamus were chilling out, trying to deal with this scorching heat. This was the only time Drew can go out and talk about the secret mission he was working with Sheamus, when he wasn’t being a police sergeant, when the gods reminded him of his destiny over and over again.

However, the mission wasn’t the only item that stayed on Drew’s lunch break agendas. There were cans of Friskies cat food, followed by catnaps under the tree. Sometimes he would hunt and eat pigeons that hung around the streets of Miami. The cat food would often be replaced by his marine blue violin playing at the amphitheatre, because Drew would be too anxious and too stressed out to keep food down, plus the adrenaline from dealing with criminals.

Normally, the Bayfront Park amphitheatre was closed and off limits to the public, but since Drew knew someone who worked at the park (and used to be an informant), he would get access. So every break, under dire stress, Drew would play his violin non-stop until he felt it was time to go back to the District.

Today was a stressful day for the Scotsman, and the heat wasn’t helping at all. The amphitheatre was the safest place to cool off and de-stress, and having Sheamus with him helped. Sheamus loved watching Drew play the violin, amazed by his graceful fingers teasing the strings. Sheamus was amazed at only twenty-eight years old, Drew could know so many songs and can play them without looking at the notes.

Today’s break was [Fritz Kreisler’s “Liebesleid”](https://youtu.be/rnW_Nhpt7no?t=12s), along with a discussion of their mission in an interlanguage that was a blend of Gaelic (Both Scottish and Irish), Scots, and Pig Latin. Drew called this language Catspeak, which was universally how werecats communicated. Of course, there were variations of Catspeak that could be a mixture of any speaking language, depending on where werecats lived (and regardless of that country’s national language). But, Sheamus wasn’t a werecat (However, he used to be in a relationship with a female werecat back in Ireland and picked up her Catspeak tongue).

It helped to keep their mission and their double lives in check. Because in a non-werecat's ear, it's just nothing but constant meowing and purring in dialogue. "At least there ain’t a doubt there is strong energy concentrated in this city, Drew.” Sheamus began with the Catspeak. “That energy gets any stronger, them mysterious evil things will annihilate everyone in sight!”

“Aye, mate,” Drew responded back, his purrs mixing calmly with each word as he played, “But, like I told you, we cannot worry over something so little. What we are given is a vague memory of our past lives that came back to us. One of us may not like what we see every night, but the only way to figure out why is to focus on our mission—To find five talismans, then invoke the Holy Grail with them by chanting the 'Power of Five’ Spell. That grail is the ultimate source of power, and it must be given back to the rightful owner as soon as possible.”

The Irishman took out a granny smith apple from his pocket and took a bite out of it. “Okay, ain’t that what we’ve been doing lately?” His mouth was full of apple, stuffing his words. “By finding everyone in this city who holds a pure heart crystal? We don’t even know who the five people are that got those talismans stuffed inside their pure hearts. Do you even know who?”

“Hell if I knew, but the software can only detect mutants like us who are destined to save this planet, as well as the heart snatchers that try to get them. So we have no choice but to do this tedious task ourselves, which means when we find the talismans, the people who own them die.”

“Yeah, even though you and I have disagreements over it, a few sacrifices have to be made in order to save this planet. Guess we have to take this mission the way it was given to us, right, lad?”

“Aye, Sheamus.”

Then, Heath happened to pass by the amphitheatre and stopped. He heard that beautiful violin music echoing out of the place. The Southerner wasn’t a Classical music fan, but whoever played that song with so much emotion touched him. So, he went into the amphitheatre. His jaw dropped when the person responsible for playing that song was none other than Drew.

Heath paid close attention. Very close attention. He admired Drew’s fingers gracefully dancing on the strings as the bow helped create this beautiful sound. _Wow,_ he thought. _Drew can really play the violin. Why caint he do that when we’re performin’ at the bars?_ Ah know people would be amazed like they are when he’s on the guitar or the bass. _He’s so darned modest sometimes, but when he plays, Ah feel like he’s seducin’ me in them stormy waves. Like one of them mermen who lure people with their music, only to kill them. Beautiful, but deadly and cold._

Suddenly, Drew heard nothing but a loud buzz in his ears. They were from the Sach's organ located under the front part of his brain. It was highly responsible for his technopathy, but like an eel, it detected sudden movements or prey. A higher-pitched hum indicated a mutant approaching, and that was what the Scot heard. Turquoise eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, landed onto Heath standing in the aisle. “Sheamus,” Drew called to the Irishman sitting in the front row eating his apple.

Sheamus turned around and saw the Strawberry-Blond in his Starbucks uniform. “Hey, what’s the craic, fella?”

“Fine,” Heath muttered.

Drew’s eyes continued to target the Southerner and froze. “Ye got fired again, eh, mate?”

How did Drew know Heath got fired? It was getting annoying for Heath. He felt like lying to him about certain things, sometimes. But, it would feel like betraying Drew’s trust if he ever did that. It was because Drew was caring enough to give him a home and a clean bed to sleep on. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt him like that, because if Drew were to find any flaw, any ounce of betrayal, anything that would raise red flags, Heath would be fucked.

“Fer what this time?!” yelled Sheamus.

“Sheamus, please!” Heath yelled. “Ah don’t need ya pickin’ on me about it, too! Had an earful from Wade all damn day! Then Jinder started yellin’ at me for no damn reason!”

Drew drifted off into his violin, as silence soothed the tension between the three men. “Damn, you’re good,” Heath chirped.

“Thank ye.” Drew smiled politely.

Sheamus smiled and wrapped an arm around Heath. “Watch this,” he said with a grin as he threw his half-eaten apple at Drew’s direction. The apple was caught up by the Scotsman’s telekinetic waves as it bounced up and down on the violin as the last part of [Vittorio Monti’s version of a Hungarian Csárdás](https://youtu.be/Op7GsUAiRnM?t=4m10s) was played.

“Whoa!” Heath laughed in amazement as how he watched Drew balance the apple and let his fingers dance on the strings, accompanying the bow as the airy, yet delectable sounds echoed the amphitheatre. Sheamus decided that it was his time to leave his two younger friends by themselves.

“Where you goin’?” Heath asked him.

“Ah, just gotta lot on me mind,” he sighed as he headed for the exit. “I gotta get back home and binge watch _Father Ted_. I open the pub in several hours. I’ll see yer two later, yeah?”

Heath was confused. “HEY, IS IT SOMETHIN’ AH DID?!” he screamed at him.

Moments later, Drew stopped playing and caught the half-eaten apple Sheamus had thrown. “He knaes damn well this isn’t a problem that watchin’ a disgraced Catholic priest tryin’ tae kick a Bishop up teh arse all day will solve.” Drew ate the apple and smirked, causing Heath to glance at him in a weird way.

He jumped off the stage and walked towards Heath. He snaked his arm around him and asked if he would like to spend the day with him at the Police District. “Ah dunno, Drew,” the Strawberry-Blond stammered. “Ah don’t get ‘long well with the police.”

“Ye get along with meh just fine.” The Scotsman purred.

“That’s cos you’re mah friend, an’ Ah trust ya, unlike Wade an’ Jinder. Ah’m still mad at them for what they said earlier.”

“Why don’t we talk ‘bout it on teh way o’er there? Meh lunch break’s ‘bout tae end, and I need tae see if meh team are actually doin’ some work. Ye need tae sober up a bit. And get rid o’ that apron and hat.”

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	7. Take Your Current Queer Sex Worker/Former Barista/Housemate/BFF to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting fired from Starbucks, Heath spends the rest of the day with Drew at the Miami Police North District Substation.

On the way to the Police District in Model City, Drew fixed his hair back into a ponytail as he listened to Heath’s situation. He listened to him vent and vent about how he is trying his best to contribute to the household. Drew listened and paid close attention to his facial expressions, as well as the tone of his voice. Drew listened as they got out of the car and entered the building before he made a final judgment. “I understand what yeh goin’ though, Heath,” he said. “I knae that yeh tryin’ yeh best. I don’t have a problem with hae ye make yeh money, but I don’t like hae ye riskin' yehself out in teh streets."

Then the Scot gently grasped his chin and added, "Because I don’t wanna get a call that they found yeh body somewhere.”

Heath blushed. “Thank you," he whispered.

"I mean it, Heath." Drew stared firmly at him. The Southern ginger felt those dishwater turquoise eyes gazing upon him. He couldn't look away. They were so caring and so motherly. "I worry 'bout ye sometimes," The Scotsman finally spoke.

They got out of the car and headed towards the side entrance. Heath was a little nervous, he wanted to stay in the car. "Somethin' wrong, mate?" Drew asked him, concerned.

"Um, they ain't gonna, you know- Heath stammered.

The Scottish werecat sighed. "Heath, I promise ye that no one will throw ye in jail or beat ye up just fae bein' yehself."

"Easy for you to say, sugah!" The Southern ginger scoffed. "Where Ah'm from, the police'll throw a mutant or a Black person in jail for nothin'. They'll kill 'em, too. Other than the prostitution charge they got me on in West Virginia, one time, this cop stopped me on the sidewalk, threw me against the car, punched me in the face, then slammed mah head against the hood 'fore takin' me to jail."

Drew shook his head. "That's fucked up." He placed his hands onto Heath's shoulders. "Look, nothin' will happen while yeh here with me. These are good police. They respect teh badge and teh city."

Heath breathed a sigh of relief, washing away the anxiety he was about to carry into the district. "You’re a good man, Drew.”

They entered the building, stopping in the middle of the hallway between the elevators and the vending machines. “So where are we goin’?” asked Heath.

“Third floor.” Drew purred in response. “That’s where teh Behavioral Intelligence Unit is housed in. While they're fixing teh second floor offices tae put us in, we're sharin' teh space with teh Narcotics and Gang Units. Lucky bastards. They get teh easier cases."

Then, Drew went on to explain how there were separate Homicide and Intelligence Units in the South and Central districts of the Miami Police Department, but they decided to create an elite unit that used both Behavioral Sciences and Criminal Intelligence. A lighter version of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit (But they put the "Behavioral Intelligence" name to it to make it sound cool). They dealt with serial murders, high-profile murders, organized crime, and trafficking.

"Wow." Heath scratched his head. "That's cool. Hey, Drew? Ah know this is a dumb question, but do ya like doin' this type of work? Bein' a cop and solvin' cases?"

"Eh." Drew shrugged. "Ye knae, this is all I wanted tae do—Catch bad guys and protect teh city from danger. If nae one is safe on these streets, then I have failed them and mehself."

Heath smiled. "That's deep. You got a real passion for doing this, Drew. Ah don't know what Ah'd do if Ah spend my whole life servin' my city. Lookin' at dead bodies every day would-Ah dunno. It takes a strong person to deal with all of this."

The Scotsman cocked his head to the side. "But ye are strong-willed, too, Heath. That and cheerful. Like right now." Like the werecat that he was, Drew rubbed his cheek onto Heath's shoulder and purred. "Bein' around ye makes meh feel...safe. Like everythin' will be fine."

He sighed, then turned to the vending machines. "Hae ye eaten?" he asked.

Heath scoffed, "Yeah, three hours ago! Then Ah got fired."

"Then let's change that, shall we? Meh squad upstairs are pissed off at meh right nae 'cause I didnae give them a break."

The Southern ginger chucked. "Damn, for a sergeant, you're strict!"

"I cannae help it." Drew's eyes grew colder as the sea. "That's meh role, and I take it seriously. Meh squad are closer tae our age, and they need tae take this unit seriously. They're good at what they do but when we're on a tough case that some of the units want our help on, they shut down on me. So, I bloody told 'em tae grow a set of baws or consider transferin' tae another unit. I hae a rookie cop on meh squad who's meh partner that I pulled straight from teh Academy. The last thing I need is everyone's incompetence rubbin' off on 'im."

Just then, Drew turned to the vending machines. He "spoke" to the soda vending machine by punching several buttons in a pattern. All of a sudden, several cans of Coca-Cola, Diet Coke, Pepsi, Sprite, 7-Up, La Croix, and Ironbeer (a fruitier version of a Dr. Pepper that is local to Florida) all flew out. One by one, The Scotsman used his telekinesis to send them to a plastic mail collection box. He did the same thing to the snack vending machine, and swiftly, bags of chips, honey buns, super donuts, beef jerky, Swedish Fish, and processed mozzarella sticks all traveled to the box.

"That...was." Heath started clapping, but Drew put his hands down.

"Keep it down, man!" The Scottish werecat hissed. "I do nae wanna get caught!"

Heath pointed to the snack machine. "You know, you could've used your telekinesis to get all them chips and moon pies."

Drew folded his arms and smirked, his dimple standing out. "Nae where's teh fun in that?" He went to the box and calculated every single item he "borrowed" out of the vending machines. "That's fifteen cans, plus these," he muttered as he went and touched the dollar slot on the soda vending machine. He "spoke" to it once again as it was fed $11.25 in cash.

 _"THANK YOU, SGT. GALLOWAY!"_   It said via a tiny vintage LCD screen next to the coin slot.

Drew did the same to the snack vending machine, paying it $20.

 _"HAVE A NICE DAY, SGT. GALLOWAY!"_ The snack vending machine said via its LCD screen.

The boys got on the elevator and headed to the space where the Behavioral Intelligence Unit is housed on the third floor. Heath had grabbed a bag of Lays and began munching on them. Then, Drew nudged him to put the box down as an African-American man in a high ranking uniform and an Afro-Cuban woman in a blue business dress suit approached the boys.

"Commander Thomas," said Drew.

"Sergeant Galloway," the man smiled. "We were just talking about you."

"Ye were, sir?"

"Of course," he pointed to the Afro-Cuban woman. "Agent Salgado here was looking for you."

"Nice to see you again, Drew," said Salgado.

"Amalia, ye nae at Quantico anymore?" Drew purred at his old friend.

"I head White-collar Crimes at the Field Office now." The FBI agent smirked. "Commander Thomas here told me about what you're doing at Homicide."

"Homicide is South or Central District," Drew corrected her. " _We're_ Behavioral Intelligence here."

Salgado purred in content. "Ah, so you're taking a page from Quantico's Behavioral Analysis?"

"Aye, ye could say that. In the past six months, we've solved over one hundred eighty-seven cases."

"You always were this determined and passionate." Salgado rubbed her cheek against the Scotsman's shoulder in a big sisterly fashion. "Ay, and look how you've grown up even though you're still tall as hell and _muy lindo,_   _hermanito_."

He playfully swatted her headscarf, and Salgado back off purring away. "So, what brings ye o'er here?" he asked her, folding his arms.

"Oh, I'm doing a talk on terrorism for a Criminology class at the University of Miami," she explained the purpose of her visit. "I thought I would need a little help, with your past experience with the CIA and your intensive knowledge on profiling, harm-reduction, and victimology. "

"When?"

"Two weeks from Tuesday, 10am."

Commander Thomas smiled. "I've arranged for you to go, Sergeant."

Drew stammered. "Um, I hae tae see if Captain Angle will sign off on this. We're still tryin' tae close one of our cases with SVU out."

The elderly commander smiled. "Captain Angle did all of that before letting me know. You ain't gotta choice. You're the most impressive one in the Miami Police Department at only—How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight, sir," squeaked Drew.

"No one has this kind of intelligence like you at your age that knows how law and order works."

"Thank ye, Commander."

The Police Commander headed to the elevators. "I better let you two catch up, then," he spoke proudly as he pushed one of the buttons before getting on. "Carry on, Sergeant." 

Suddenly, Salgado started speaking in Catspeak, only hers was a mixture of Cuban Spanish, Creole, Pig Latin, and Lucumí. Drew responded with his own Catspeak, which had Heath stop eating his chips.

 _Are they...meowin' at each other?_ He thought as a chip slowly entered his mouth.

"Professor Al-Sharifi is a friend of mine," Salgado continued in Catspeak. "The majority of her Criminology students are werecats, with a few having mutant abilities."

She gave him a small fluffy ball for Drew to sniff. Feral werecats (that made up the homeless population in Miami) would make acquaintances via pheromone introduction. Any therianthrope or human entered their territory uninvited by not introducing them to their scents suffered dire consequences. Although Drew was a Feral, he was a very high-functioning individual. However, there were times when he behaved like a big cat (being at 6'5") when not in his black cat form. Introducing him to therianthrope and human pherormones was not only a sign of respect for Drew, but it was how he grew up communicating. It was also where he applied those pheromone introductions into his extensive profiling.

"Is she a werecat?" The Scotsman responded in his own Catspeak.

"Yes. She also wants her class to understand the act of terrorism from a profiler's standpoint using the curriculum on the types of killers she's got them studying. She’s asking me to speak because she knows I deal with this type of crime, but I'm not the profiling expert."

"So you want me to show up and speak about my experience being on the field and such?"

"That and because you have mutant abilities, you dealing with discrimination and the stigma around it. I mean it’s bad enough we get hate from normies for being werecats, but being mutants on top of that?"

"Tell me about it. We have to go to the veterinarian as the bloody pets because the normy medical community isn’t educated on therianthropic health nor do they want to touch the subject. It seems to me like this is a complex discussion. We might need to break it down a bit here. I tell you what; let me give you my card. Call me and we could meet up on Skype or this cat café in South Beach I often go to. I have to get to my team."

"Okay."

Then Drew turned to Heath and introduced him to Salgado. Heath and the Cuban werecat FBI agent shook hands. Out of the blue, two uniformed police officers and their German shepherd dogs from the K-9 Unit passed by. The dogs started growling at them, and Drew and Salgado hissed and morphed into their cat forms. Heath's eyes widened as he saw Salgado in her calico cat form hissing and screeching at them. Drew, in his black cat form, started growling and meowing directly at the police officers.

“Okay, Sergeant!” said one of the officers. “Good kitties!”

“RRRWWWOOOOAARRRGGGHHH!!” Drew growled with his back arched, his long tail standing upright and twitching sideways, and his ears back.

The officers ordered his dog. “Nein, Sassy! Fuß! Fuß!”

The dogs wouldn’t stop barking, and their partners held onto their leashes for dear life. Then, as a dog and werecat fight was about to go down, Heath stepped in and picked both werecats off the floor and yelled at them to calm down.

“Henry, platz!” the other officer ordered his dog, which he responded by lying on the ground with his head down in submission. “Pfui!”

“You too, Sassy!” the first officer scolded his dog, and she too laid down in submission. “Bad girl! Pfui! You know better not to attack a superior!”

The werecats morphed to their human selves, and Salgado added, “And a Federal Agent.”

“We’re really sorry!” said the other officer.

“I’m bloody reportin’ teh both o’ yeh tae yeh superior!” growled Drew. “Hae many times hae I told ye K9 men nae tae bring yeh…filthy mutts in this unit?! Nae get out!”

“Sir, yes, sir!’ they whined as they took their dogs and left.

“Are ye all right, Amalia?” the Scotsman turned to Salgado.

“Sí, I am all right,” she said.

“I apologize fae—

“No, don’t. It was nice to see you, though. I’ll give you a call on where to meet. I have to get back to the Field Office, anyway. See you.”

They hugged each other and Salgado went on her merry way. Heath grabbed the plastic mail collection box and followed Drew down the hallway to where his squad were at. He followed him to a room between two interrogation rooms where there was loud chattering.

Drew opened the door and found his team, along with another sergeant and a couple of detectives from the Special Victims Unit. They were talking about their case with the serial predator until they were interrupted by the plastic mailbox Heath was carrying.

"Hungry?" Drew spoke to them in a purr that thickened his Scottish accent a bit.

"Raided the vending machines again, eh, Galloway?" The sergeant from SVU asked.

"It's nae a crime if I grabbed ‘bout $25 in snacks and stuffed ten and twenty-dollar bills back in teh machines." The Scotsman let out a hissing laugh as Heath placed the plastic container on the table. Then, Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, and Wozniak ran towards the box like vultures attracted to fresh roadkill.

"Damn, y'all hungry!" exclaimed Heath.

"Damn, Galloway!" said one of the SVU detectives. "You've been starvin' your team so much, we might as well have a telethon."

Jimmy dropped his scarfing down his bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos to stare directly into the detective's eyes. "Do I look like one of them Ethiopian boys that come on Save the Children?" he yelled.

Naomi shoved her partner, grabbed a bag of pretzels and a can of Coke. "No, but we might as well be if you don't stop eatin' all them chips!" she said, then turned to thank Drew for bringing snacks and thinking about them. Then she and Jimmy got into an argument which had Drew placing his hands onto his face as everyone in the room noticed him in his bioluminescent state.

"If I could— Wozniak interjected.

"SHUT UP, WOZNIAK!" Everyone yelled.

"By teh way, guys," Drew said. "This is meh roommate and friend, Heath Slater. I hope ye don't mind he tags along."

The detectives all stared at the strawberry-blond Southerner, who felt like he got caught and was on his way to jail again. Watching a bunch of detectives discuss a case brought back memories of when he was processed and placed in a holding cell in West Virginia on prostitution charges.

"Hey," the detectives all spoke, treating Heath as one of them rather than their suspect.

Then Jimmy sulked. His Flamin' Hot Cheetos were missing something. "You didn't bring no cheese, Sergeant Galloway." He let Drew know. "You can't eat hot Cheetos without cheese."

Heath cringed and wrinkled his nose. "Why wouldya wanna eat cheese with hot Cheetos?" he asked him.

"Oh my god!" scoffed Naomi as she slapped him upside Jimmy's head. "Boy, sit your ghetto ass down! Take what you got and appreciate it!"

Then another argument ensued between the two until it was Renee's turn to slam her hands on the table and scream out. "GOD! GROW UP ALREADY!"

Drew was still glowing as he mouthed his apologies to Heath and the SVU sergeant. They finally regained their composure and the Scotsman stopped glowing. They started working on the case by profiling, analyzing, and interrogating. The suspect that Drew and Wozniak picked up earlier was an accomplice. Jey placed a photo of a dead prepubescent girl on the whiteboard. She had been raped and brutally beaten. Time of death was last night.

"Oh, mah god!" Heath whispered at the gore in the photo. "That po' baby."

Just then, Kofi knocked on the door and Drew let him in. He gave them details on where the real suspect is, including a list of items purchased at a Walmart and Toys 'R Us. They used other people's credit cards to purchase these items. "I called the numbers for your friends in the FTC, Sarge," said Kofi. "They said they're letting the Credit Bureaus know, and they're shutting down all the accounts affected. I'm also keeping tabs on where he's going."

"Nice work," said Drew.

Kofi sat down with the rest of the detectives and they all continued discussing the case. Heath was astonished at how they were passionate and into catching the bad guys. This was nothing compared to _Law & Order: SVU_ or _CSI_ , shows the strawberry-blond considered filler shows he would watch when _The Walking Dead_ was on hiatus. After the briefing was done, Drew told Heath to leave the room before going back in to yell at his squad for their immaturity and their lazy investigating work. Heath could hear the Scottish werecat tear a new one in his squad. Drew threatened to transfer each detective to another unit or have them demoted to patrol if they didn't get their shit together. The squad all left the room shaken up but they learned a valuable lesson.

Throughout the entire shift, Heath would tag along with Drew and Wozniak chasing leads and the perp. He would watch the SVU detectives, Naomi, and Drew take turns questioning the lead suspect. But, the interrogation would continue when the SVU team was gone for the night. That's when Heath would witness a very deep, stygian side of Drew no one has ever seen. "He likes to treat these kinds of suspects extra, extra special." Renee explained, putting a distorted emphasis on her words. She turned to Wozniak with a lawful glare. "You're going to really learn what we do here at Behavioral Intelligence, Wozniak."

"Like what?" Heath and Wozniak said in inquiring unison.

The elevator arrived and they all hopped in to where they ended up in the basement. In the basement was the boiler room and the locker room. Between the two rooms stood a slightly rusty cage with a wooden chair in it. The Fatu twins and Drew were in the cage with the lead suspect. "Take off yeh clothes," The Scotsman ordered him.

The man glanced at him in quizzical awe, but he did was strip down to his underwear. "All of it." Drew held up a picture of one of the victims. "After all, that's what ye made this little girl do."

"Well, yeah but—

"Take them nasty ass drawers off!" yelled the Twins.

The pedophile did so and Drew and the Twins jumped him, throwing punches and kicks to his abdomen. Naomi watched as she rolled her eyes and turned to Renee and the two men. This is the third time in her career she has seen a high-ranking policeman force a confession from someone, but not to the extreme as Drew was going to do. The Scotsman and the Fatu Twins shackled the pedophile's wrists and ankles to the slightly rusty cage wall. The twins held up pictures of the victims. All the pedophile had to do is admit these sick and twisted crimes. One wrong word and Drew would become a werecat violet wand, using his hands to electrocute him, hopefully not to kill him. But since he was shackled with steel handcuffs against rusty steel, there would be a slight chance of survival. After all, metal was electricity's partner-in-crime.

"You know why you're here, do you?" Jimmy asked him as Jey held up another photograph of one of the victims. "So what can you tell us about this 'lil girl?"

"I-uh," the man stammered. "I don't know what you're talking about! I don't know her!"

Then Heath, Naomi, Renee, and Wozniak watched Drew placed his hand over the pedophile and zapped him a volt of electricity. The man shuddered and giggled but refused to answer any of their questions and deny the crimes.

"I plead the Fifth—

"Too late for that," scoffed Jey.

Drew then pulled up another photo of the victims and showed it to their suspect. The Scotsman demanded the confession from him, but when the man refused, he was livid. So he gave him another volt of his electric rage. The rest of Drew's team was standing in front of the rusty steel cage with Heath watching the torture go down.

Naomi was getting disgusted. She tried to leave, letting Wozniak and Renee know. "This is insane. I can't deal with this." She folded her arms and scoffed. "I know what this man did was sick, but y'all gotta go this far to torture him? Did you _not_ listen to his speech earlier?"

Renee just stared at her. "I don't like Sergeant Galloway's methods in dealing with these types of people, either," she coldly retorted. "If you want to stay in Behavioral Intelligence, especially with Sergeant Galloway, these things you'll have to get used to."

"Suppose the State's Attorney finds out we tortured him before arraignment, what happens next?"

"Sarge knows what he’s doing here. I don’t like it, but he wouldn’t dare to put his and our team’s careers in jeopardy. And quite frankly, we need to man up and show some respect to the badge. We took an oath to serve and protect the city, and if it means being cold and emotionless, and playing a bit dirty, so be it.”

"I'm leaving—Naomi said finally, but Wozniak grabbed her and made her watch Drew and the Twins torture the pedophile.

Heath had to watch with them, too. After all, he and Drew were riding home after this. He didn't feel comfortable going home by himself, knowing full well he'll end up in jail for something he didn't do. He had to stay and watch Drew electrocute the pedophile until he confessed to the crimes he committed. The twins uncuffed their suspect as Drew gave him a pad of paper and pills to calm his nerves down after all the electric play his did. He told him to write it down. Every detail of how he lured those girls, how he told them to take their clothes off and he would take pictures, and how he would murder these poor little girls if they refused his sick, pedophilic advances.

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	8. Drama at the Dinner Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew confronts Wade and Jinder about their mistreatment of Heath in chapter six at dinnertime. The neighbors stick their noses in when the confrontation turns physical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took too long. Didn't like the first draft, and I've been ill for awhile. So enjoy and review.

After it was all said and done in the police station, Heath and Drew rode home. The quick car trip to home was silent, even though there was no tension suffocating the space between the two boys. Heath had to reflect on what had just happened, and the aftermath of it. He saw a man accused of raping and killing prepubescent Latin girls get tortured into a confession by his roommate and best friend. He witnessed the dark side, and the emotionless expressions of Drew, and it worried him. Drew was a soft-spoken, gentle, nice, somewhat shy, tall, strapping werecat at times, so how could he turn into this cold, emotionless, aggressive, sinister being? That was swimming around in Heath’s head for an answer. When they got to the front of their house, Drew turned off the engine and just stared at Heath. Just stared at him. He was looking for any emotion on Heath’s face for him to profile it. Heath could feel the Scottish werecat’s dishwater turquoise eyes fixed upon him, and it was bothering him. “Are you just gon’ stare at me all night or are we gon’ get in the house?” he asked him coldly.

“What ever did I do tae ye?” Drew responded. “Ye haent said a word fae teh last twelve minutes since we left teh police station.”

“It ain’t what ya did to me.” Heath made his statement clear and concerning. “It’s what you did to that man.”

The expression of Drew’s face turned into shock. “Ye…saw...meh torture ‘im?”

“It wasn’t just me who saw you and the twins, everybody did. Naomi, Renee, an’ that Polish guy. They saw you shock that man almost to death.” Drew felt a bit guilty for it, and he could tell by the disappointment on Heath’s face. “This concerns ye because?” he mewled, as he untied his hair loose.

Heath gulped, somewhat afraid of telling the truth. Truth. That word again. Heath always failed at being honest at times, but it was his own way of surviving as a mutant and as a queer sex worker. “Well, it’s ‘cause that threw me off a bit,” he squeaked as he untied his strawberry-blond locks. “Ah don’t know what to say ‘bout that. All Ah know was that ain’t the Drew Ah know over there."

"What ye saw out there, wasn't teh real meh," Drew sighed.

"Ah'm confused." Heath scratched his head.

"Whom ye saw tonight, fights tae serve teh city and protect teh people from danger. Yes, though there are some form o' political control and a bit o' corruption that would make ye nae trust us, whom ye saw, is nae those cops. I took a few risks that would put teh Behavioral Intelligence Unit in jeopardy because I care about meh team and I love tae enforce teh law because it's what I knae. Without doing so, there will still be victims, and I don't want that in meh dreams when I sleep at night."

"Yeah, Ah feel ya. No one wants that on their mind, seein' all them lil' girls' bodies like that. But, that don't answer why ya feel the need to torture that sick sonofabitch."

"I hate liars." The Scotsman shrugged his shoulders. "And I hae no patience fae serial pedophiles. Especially, serial pedophiles who lie tae yeh face when they knae they're caught. He deserved it."

"So, you torture your perps in order to get everythin' outta 'em, 'cause you need a strong case, an' you feel much better if everyone suffered an' would suffer more in jail?" Heath scrunched his face in disgust, knowing that he still felt gyped that Drew still will not open up that side of him like he did at the station, nor will he ever admit that the things he would do justified anything.

"Everythin' will be fine," said Drew. "I assure ye."

They went inside the house to find everyone in the dining room eating a big leg of lamb dinner Jinder had conjured up. They joined them at the table and dug in, being that it was only a few hours since they had eaten. "Damn, Jinder!" yelled Heath, munching on the lamb meat and dinner roll. "You sure outdid yourself."

Drew was focused on reading the emotions on Jinder's face. He could tell Jinder cooked all this food just so he could hide the guilt for saying all those mean things to Heath earlier. And, boy did Drew let him have it. "Excellent dinner, Jinder," His accent thickened with purrs and clicks. "One would expect tae hae such a dinner far such an occasion."

"Um, thanks, Drew," said Jinder, his voice intimidated by the purrs and the tension coming from the Scot. "It-it was nothing, really. I for-forgot that I bought a leg of l-lamb a month ago and left it in the deep freezer."

Drew waved his knife at the Indo-Canadian as he continued speaking. "They say that freezin' meat and birds last longer. It prevents unwanted microbes from multiplyin' and causin' spoilage.” Jinder started to turn a little pale, as if the Scottish werecat was planning to stab him. Wade took notice of that right away as he already predicted that there was gonna be drama at the dinner table over Heath.

And, he was right.

Drew continued rambling on, while waving his knife at Jinder and at Wade. “If it weren't fae industrialization kickin' off in teh 19th Century, this type o' food preservation would've rendered us trips tae hospital o'er a—

"Drew!" yelled Wade, slamming his hands on the table. "We are eatin'! Wot is your point 'ere?"

"Oh, nothin'." Drew cocked his head to the side and looked up, still purring. (Now imagine a halo hanging above him) "I'm just statin' teh fact that usin' a leg o' lamb isn't gonna cover that guilt and that black eye Jinder has fae what he did tae Heath earlier in teh day."

“Ya know wot, Galloway?!” Wade continue to chide at him. “I’m really gettin’ tired of ya stickin’ your nose in situations where it doesn't concern ya!”

“Mate, meh name is on teh bloody deed, so I hae ev'ry right tae say what goes on in this house!”

Sheamus raised his fork full of turnips. "Um, me name's on the deed too, yer know?" He bellowed.

"Aye, Sheamus," Drew responded, his eyes still targeting Wade. "But ye don't go and extort yeh own housemates fae back rent, do ye?!"

The Irishman nodded in agreement as he put the fork of turnips to his mouth and chewed. "Extortion?!" Wade stammered, bewildered. "That's real nice, comin' from ah dirty cop like ya!"

That really pissed Drew off, shoving his plate of food away from him and folding his arms, still carrying the knife in his hand. "Okay, yer takin' it too far!" said Sheamus.

"Drew 'ere shouldn't make accusations like that when he's the one who invites gang members into our 'ome to discuss drug turfs!"

"Quit bloody changin' teh subject!" Drew hissed at Wade. "We're talkin' about ye harrassin' Heath o'er hes financial situation, not meh confidential informants bringin' me catnip and pizza!"

Heath and Sheamus, who had front row seats to the drama unfolding, went for seconds on the lamb and remained focused on cleaning their plates. They watched Drew, Wade, and Jinder have a shouting and swearing match. Every argument was about Drew instigating and being a dirty cop, and the other was about Heath. Then Drew yelled, "And Jinder, teh next time ye want tae drop meh name in anythin', ye better hae some damn proof!"

"Like what?" whined Jinder.

Drew brought up the accusation of him and Heath eating up the food in the house. Sheamus, Wade, and Heath watched as another shouting match between the two youngest members of their household.

"Fellas, yer wanna take tis outside?" Asked Sheamus nonchalantly.

"GOOD IDEA!!" They responded as they stormed out into their front lawn.

Out to their front lawn they went and Drew, Wade, and Jinder took their shirts off. As the two redheads sat on the porch, Drew started to shove Jinder, Wade shoved Drew. Suddenly, the Englishman and the Indo-Canadian ganged up on the Scot, but were thrown across the lawn by Drew's telekinesis. Punches were thrown, insults and expletives were screeched back and forth. The fight spilled onto the street as the neighbors from one of the apartment buildings across from them yelled at them to stop with the noise. Some were filming the fight on their smartphones.

"Git back to ya 'ouse, lady!" Wade yelled at one of them. "This doesn't concern ya!"

"It is when you wakin' my kids up!" said a woman standing on a balcony in one of the apartment complexes.

Then a man with dreadlocks yelled out. "Y'all don't stop, I'mma call the po-lice!"

"I AM TEH FUCKIN' POLICE, MUTHAFUCKA!" Drew roared at them. "YE KNAE WHO TEH FUCK I AM?!"

"DREW!" Sheamus yelled. He was really getting sick of the show in the middle of the street. It was embarrassing that two grown ass mutants and a grown ass mutant feral werecat were fighting like teenagers. Teenagers that end up on Worldstar Hip-Hop.

The Irishman used his telepathy to insert positive memories into his neighbors' minds and controlled them into getting into their apartments like zombies. Then, when everyone was gone, Sheamus approached Drew, grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back, screaming, "What'd I tell yer 'bout startin' shit, fella?! Yer get inside!"

"Ahhh!" screamed the werecat as he was dragged into the house. "Yeh bloody pullin' meh scalp off, lemme go yeh fuck--

_ZZAPP!_

Sheamus dropped his hair the minute Drew grabbed his wrist and gave him a tiny shock. He rubbed his wrist and growled at him. "Yer tryin' to give me a heart attack?"

Drew folded his arms. "I dunno, do ye want one?"

Later on in the night, Drew was in his bedroom. His bedroom is where he can hide from humanity and the harsh consequences. Drew's favorite color was blue, and his entire bedroom was enveloped in this rich, calming color. The walls were blue. The ceiling was blue. His bed from his pillows, blankets, and frame, were a mix of blue and indigo. His curtains that hid the window were indigo. His sofa, dresser, bookcase, and closet doors were also blue. The wooden floor was also painted a deep Spanish blue. Of course his bedroom wasn't complete without a couple of cat trees, several cat toys, and a small flight of marine blue stairs that led to a makeshift balcony high above the room with a cat bed. Easy enough for him to really hide from everyone.

And in that deep, cold sea of blue he called his bedroom, the Scottish werecat sat as his blue desk where his computer was sitting. It's where he finishes his paperwork from his cases, sending them to his office computer at the police district so he can turn them in faster. He would also have to email the prosecutor at the State Attorney's office (and they would argue back and forth over the humane treatment of Drew's suspects). First things first, he had to search for any targets The Ravens were looking for, and this time he and Sheamus will get there before the other soldiers. He had no idea who they were, and he assumed the soldier with the strawberry-blond hair with cerulean highlights was the leader. He wanted to work with them, but like Sheamus, he couldn't trust them. After he found his target, Drew finished his police stuff, and climbed onto his bed. He clapped three times to turn on a set of LED blue lights that made his blue bedroom pop and to envelop his body in this calming glow.

 

 

 

**To Be Continued...**


	9. A South Beach Werecat Lunch Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew and Agent Salgado meet up and reminisce about their time spent in Cuba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest installment. Read and review (While I try to think up some ways for Drew and Jinder to make up...but hey Jinder is the 50th WWE Champ! Woot woot!)
> 
> I don't own the characters or props, but I do own rights to the seagull pot pie. Don't eat seagulls, unless if you're a werecat (or Andrew Zimmern, host of _Bizzare Foods_ lol).

Two days later, Drew took a ride (via Miami-Dade County's public transit system) to South Beach to meet Salgado at a cat café. It wasn't your typical cat café like in Japan or New York City where humans (who couldn't care for a cat due to living situations or excessive traveling) paid a fee to interact with cats while drinking their lattes and using their free Wi-Fi to tweet and Instagram.

It was a café ..for werecats. And in this posh South Beach café on Ocean Drive, everyone was in their cat forms playing with toys, relaxing on the cat trees with snack-size bags of cat treats, and chasing laser dots. Even the baristas were werecats in their human form (Their paws would have trouble with the cash register).

"This reminds me of the Cocina Chiquis in Havana," exclaimed Salgado as she explored the place looking for a seat with Drew.

"Aye, takes me back." Drew smiled, finding a nice booth by the window. He and Salgado sat down. "They still make those roasted rat sandwiches? Ohmehgods those were so good with teh pickles and that grass and coriander sauce!"

"They used to," said Salgado. "Zana told me they closed last year. Jorge died from a heart attack, and his daughters couldn't continue with the business. It wasn't the same."

"Oh meh gods! I loved that old tom. He didnae want us go back tae America--treated us like we were hes own kittens."

"He treated you more like the son he never had with all those daughters he's got!" Salgado started laughing. "Remember he taught you how to play dominos?"

Drew chuckled as he pushed his long brown hair back from his face. "I remember that. He got excited that we kept beatin' all teh other elder werecats!"

"Oh my god! Yes! He just wouldn't get over it! But when he wasn't a sore winner, he had such a beautiful singing voice to serenade every female werecat in the room."

"I miss 'im...cannae believe he's gone."

Salgado nodded, then picked up a menu and they both couldn't decide where to start. The waiter approached their booth. "Hey Drew!" he greeted the Scotsman in Catspeak. "Getting the usual?"

"Not this time, brother. Can we share a gull pie?" Drew responded back in the same tongue.

"You're in luck. Raquel just caught a couple of gulls by the beach."

"Awesome."

"Can I also get an iced hibiscus tea?" Asked Salgado, also in Catspeak.

"Sure." The waiter picked up the menu. "I'll be right back with your drink, ma'am, and the pie will be about forty-five minutes, give or take."

As they were waiting for their pie, Salgado took out a large folder of documents. They were for the presentation she and Drew were to speak at the University of Miami. Drew took a look at them, then sighed. "Amalia, I've been thinkin' 'bout this since last night," he said.

"And?" Salgado raised an eyebrow.

"Other than this large folder being too big tae break it down, I don't knae if I want tae do this. I don't care if Commander Thomas made it mandatory, but there are some things I don't want tae share." Drew wringed his hands and stared at the table. "I feel as though I'm gonna be speakin' tae a bunch o' young werecats who might think it's cool tae hae special powers."

Salgado sighed and nodded. She stared at the tinted window looking at the humans coming out of different stores with shopping bags, and even some were just enjoying the South Beach environment eating and having fun. She wondered if these humans were also mutants. She wondered if there were other therianthropes just like her and Drew amongst them outside of the cafe. "I am proud o' bein' a werecat, don't get me wrong," Drew continued. "Bein' a werecat who can make objects move with my mind, can manipulate technology like a telepath, and can generate electricity, haever..."

Salgado nodded as Drew he dipped his finger in his water glass and swirled the melting ice around. "Werecats have been discriminated more than any other therianthrope," she said, dismally.

Drew's eyes froze upon the Afro-Cubana. "If yeh morph tae a different skin color or hae powers, yeh fucked."

"Yeah, I get your frustration." Salgado folded her arms. "I still don't understand why you're not too happy with this presentation."

Drew stared directly into Salgado's piercing green eyes. "Amalia, hae did ye knae where I was?" He quickly changed the subject. "I hae nae seen nor heard from ye in five years."

"That talk you did on Anti-Werecat and Anti-Mutation in law enforcement at a conference in Jacksonville last year." Salgado smiled and purred.

"What about it?" asked Drew.

"I was there. The way you moved everyone in the room with so much passion. Of course, there were a couple of old men that weren't too happy and walked out. I tried to find you after that, but you were gone. Then I bumped into Wilfredo, who was consulting me on a White-Collar case. Suddenly, he brought you up because he always brings your cases to court, and I asked where you stay at, and that is how I found you."

"That bloody tuxedo owes me a jibarito de rata!" The Scot laughed. "I'm pissed off at 'im. Just o'er a case I'm about tae wrap up before it goes tae court."

The Afro-Cubana hissed. "You didn't answer my last question, Drew!"

Just then, Raquel, one of the employees at the cat café, approached their table with plates, utensils, and the gull pie. She served both of them a piece. "Enjoy," she said in Catspeak. "Would you like anything else?"

"Yes," Drew responded in the same tongue. "Can I have a Blue Moon?"

"Sure."

"Like hell you will!" Salgado, speaking the same tongue, objected. "You Scottish werecats always have to use alcohol to solve your problems. He'll be having a chocolate Bustelo, miss."

"Okay, chocolate Bustelo it is," Raquel purred as she went back to the counter. Drew growled at Salgado, but she smiled deviously. If Drew was going to find ways to avoid Salgado's questions, Salgado was going to be the big sister and strike back. Moments later, the waiter that took their orders earlier, came back with a glass full of ice and a can of chocolate Bustelo, which was a popular brand of Cuban coffee. Drew opened the can and poured the contents into the glass, glaring coldly at Salgado.

"So how's your favorite iced Cuban drink?" Salgado purred as she watched the Scot drink the iced chocolate coffee. Drew hissed as he grabbed his fork and dug into his piece of the gull pie. Salgado rolled her eyes and joined him. The gull pie was delicious, no one had complaints. The only thing Salgado was disappointed with was Drew's behavior.

"Drew," she sighed. "This...isn't the Drew Galloway I used to know from when we did that assignment back in Cuba." Her green eyes glowed with anger, desperately seeking answers. "After that, you disappeared out of the blue. Then I find you doing a presentation last year. Now, you don't want to do this work with me. I'm confused."

"Amalia, don't!" Drew growled.

"You know what?" Salgado purred. "I think this is more than not doing the thing at the University of Miami. And you have every right to be mad at me for not keeping in touch for five years. That I'm sorry about."

"Is this about why I left teh CIA?" Drew stared coldly at her, this time his eyes were dilated. "Ye don't even knae hae I ended up there."

He told Salgado about the time he was fifteen, he was the leader of a group of British assassins (known for killing corrupt politicians, diplomats, and serial predators), and became the top assassin in the world. The rest of his mutant powers manifested as the electric organs in his body (responsible for his technopathy and electrogenesis) fully developed. His telekinesis were at an almost omega-level. His technopathic abilities got him in trouble with the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States. The CIA caught Drew hacking into the Federal Reserve, attempting to retrieve stolen British money an American diplomat had deposit into so they could start a sex trafficking ring. CIA Director of Operations, Jeff Jarrett wanted to throw Drew in prison for life, but being impressed by his profiling abilities and mutant powers, he gave him a job as a CIA Agent. Jeff pulled some strings into giving Drew full Dual Citizenship while the Scot finished his Criminology degree at Glasgow Caledonian University.

While with the CIA, he was assigned a case where he was to go undercover on a human trafficking ring in Havana, Cuba. The FBI's Counterintelligence Division was also assigned to help the CIA into taking down the ring. That was how Drew met Salgado, who was part of that Counterintelligence Division.

Salgado was born in Cuba's Guantanamo Bay Naval Base to Afro-Cuban American werecats, but spent the rest of her teenage and adult years in Miami's Little Havana. During their undercover work, Drew and Salgado stayed with Salgado's mother's family in the outskirts of Havana. "I remember abuela making you and Tío Ignacio hunt rats and wild chickens so she could make arroz a la Cubana con rata y pollo," Salgado beamed. "The wild chickens were the best tasting birds in Cuba, better than store-bought."

"Aye," Drew purred. "But, she was teh one who taught me teh recipe.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that was her way of getting to know you. She used to do that to Felipe when we started dating, and she already taught Tío Ignacio.”

“She believed in workin’ fae yeh meal by teachin’ ye tae cook. Like huntin’.”

“Yup, back in the day, female werecats were the ones doing the hunting and the feeding while the males worked with the normies to keep a roof over their heads.”

Drew cocked his head to the side. “Before or aftae Castro?”

“I think it was before,” chirped Salgado. “Abuela was in her teens when the Castros overthrew Batista. When the Bay of Pigs began, most of the werecat population swam to the U.S. undetected, with many arriving on the Florida shores. Fidel hated werecats, thought we were freaks like the gays. Not to mention that we and the housecats were often the main course.”

Drew shuddered at the thought of his kind getting skinned alive and put into a pot. “My abuela was one of the werecats who swam to Miami pregnant with my mom during Bay of Pigs,” Salgado continued. “There, she raised her and Tío Ignacio alone in a small apartment in Little Havana. Then Mamí enlisted in the Navy where she met Papí. They did a small tour in the Middle East before moving back to Cuba to live in Guantanamo Bay. Abuela was furious at first when she found out. But, she didn't trust the American military, so she and Tío Ignacio moved back with my parents and she stayed in La Regla.”

They continued eating their lunch in silence, as Drew turned to his iPhone and started looking at the scoreboard for his favorite soccer team from Scotland, the Glasgow Rangers. “Teh mission got tae me,” he mumbled.

“Hmm?” purred Salgado.

“Teh mission where we rescued all those kids and killed teh leader o’ teh traffickin’ ring. I promised yeh grandmother and Felipe I’d protect ye. Then ye got shot and ye lost yeh—Drew turned to stare at his phone again, trying to hide any emotion from Salgado. “I couldn't look at yeh family in teh eye again,” he said. “And I hated hae teh CIA treated me. Like I was some bloody house pet o’ theirs! So I went tae Director Jarrett and begged him tae throw me in jail. I don't mind spendin’ eternity there. I can't die, anyway. He didn't want tae do that tae me, maybe he felt guilty and he saw potential in me, I don't know. Somehae, he connected me tae Captain Angle and I got into teh Miami Police Academy.”

Salgado took both of Drew’s hands and squeezed them in a big-sisterly way. Drew purred comfortably as the Afro-Cubana asked him to look straight in her eyes. Drew peered up and stared deeply into Salgado’s emerald orbs. “Drew…”she sighed. “Whatever happened over there, wasn't your fault. What I lost was devastating, but if you didn't use your healing ability, your telekinesis, and that Scottish _callejero_ upbringing, I wouldn't be here today.”

“But…”

“No, _manito_.” Salgado gripped Drew's hands tighter. “Number one rule that you learn first in this line of work: Never let a case get to you. Never bring your work home with you, especially undercover operations. It eats you up inside and you lose big time. Consider that your lesson learned.”

Drew felt a bit better—He could feel the weight slide off his broad shoulders. And to make sure he was eating, Salgado emphasized her point across. “Finish your pie.” She cut another slice of the gull pie and placed it onto Drew’s plate with a loud splat.

Drew chuckled as he took a bite and washed it down with the chocolate Bustelo. “Reminds me at home where I hae tae keep peace between meh housemates. One time, I had tae use physical force tae stop a fight.”

“I take that you're the mama in the house.” Salgado giggled.

“Aye,” Drew was hesitant in admitting. A gap-toothed smile crept across his face, dimples and all. “I guess ye could say that.”

“Pretty soon, you’ll be wearing rollers in your hair and using _chanclas_ to get your point across.”

“Rollers, nae meh thing. Sandals, eh, maybe next time I get into it with meh housemates.” Drew told her about the huge fight he had with Jinder and Wade the other night that spilled out onto the street. “Teh whole thing got resolved eventually—Tae where I'm nae speakin' a bloody word tae both o'em without stickin' a knife in ‘em, puttin' a bullet in, or fryin' 'em with meh powers.”

Salgado took a sip of her iced tea and took out her iPhone. She opened up the gallery and showed it to Drew. Drew took out a pair of special gloves that prevented the electric organs in his body from frying the phone (or any electronic device) and scrolled through a set. “What am I lookin' at?” he asked her.

“My son, Andrés.” Salgado beamed with pride. “He just turned three.”

Drew peered up at her. “Ye named 'im after me?”

“Well, how do you—

“I’m honored…but humbled at teh same time.” Drew smiled as he looked at the photos in Salgado’s iPhone. “He looks a lot like Felipe, but he’s got yeh eyes and skin color.”

“He turns into a _mini_ Felipe, too. Same white and ginger tabby markings.” Salgado giggled. “He's my little _sonrisa_.”

“I’d like tae meet teh wee lad sometime.”

“In due time, you will meet him,” Salgado purred. “And you and Felipe can help him make dinner!”

Drew laughed as he stacked his empty plate to the side. As he paid for their meal, Drew and Salgado headed to a small parking lot located behind the building. “Where do you live at?” Salgado asked as she unlocked the doors to her Subaru.

“Model City,” said Drew. “Near NW 55th Terrace and 10th.”

“So you walk to the Substation?” Salgado raised an eyebrow.

“Aye.” Drew brushed his hair away from his face. “But I took two busses tae get here. My housemate Heath's car always breaks down. Jinder takes teh bus tae go tae bakery, and Wade takes teh van tae teh Fisheries. I already got a license but despite meh rankin', I don’t even knae if teh city pays me enough tae get meh own car.”

Then out of nowhere, Drew heard a loud, English-accented voice calling for his name. But it wasn’t Wade's voice. No, it had a lighter pitch and more of a Birmingham flavor to it. The voice belonged to a man with blond hair coming towards him and Salgado. “Spud?!” Exclaimed the Scot as he gave the 5’4” man a big hug. “Ohmehgods! I cannae—Hae teh devil are ye?!”

“Good, good!” said Spud. “Been a bloody long time, you stayin' outta trouble?”

Drew showed him his Miami PD badge. “More like stoppin' trouble.”

“You, a sergeant?!”

“Aye, Sergeant Andrew MacLean Galloway IV, Miami Behavioral Intelligence Unit!”

“Congratulations, mate!” the diminutive English blond was impressed.

Drew turned to Salgado. “Amalia, this is James Curtin, a.k.a., Rockstar Spud. We used tae be in 'That life'.”

Spud pulled out his police badge. “That’s _Detective_ James Michael Curtin, Miami-Dade Police Special Victims Bureau. Made up for all those times we spend watching _In the Heat of the Night_ and _Law & Order_ on the telly.”

“Good times.” Drew mused, as he and Spud exchanged numbers, then went into the Subaru with Salgado. “I gotta get home and change into meh uniform fae patrol duty, but we should catch up soon.”

“Yeah, mate!” exclaimed Spud. “I’ll text ya later.”

 

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

 


	10. Drama at the Dinner Table, Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much, this chapter explains itself. With a pissed off Scottish Werecat on his way to work, causing telepathic shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this one line of dialogue for Jinder, I used Google translate. Everything else, I don’t own. Read and review!

Three weeks went by, and there was still tension in the Barrett-Galloway-Mahal-O’Shaunessy-Slater Household. They were accompanied by awkward silences during live sporting events on television, and even at the dinner table. Jinder would spend an hour in the kitchen preparing and cooking a meal he would create in his mind. Sheamus and Heath would set the table in the dining room, Wade would come home from work, and everyone would sit down to a fresh, home-cooked meal.

Well, everyone, except for their Scottish werecat cop housemate, Drew Galloway. For the past three weeks, Drew led his team on an undercover operation involving notorious Peruvian drug dealers and dead upper-class white teenagers from the Coconut Grove and Coral Way neighborhoods traveling north to Model City or Overtown, looking to spend their allowance on the latest dope. Now that the case is over and sent to the State’s Attorney's office, Drew still wants to do more police work. So, for the last couple of days, he’s been on patrol duty. In the Miami Behavioral Intelligence Unit, patrol duty is voluntary since they don’t receive as many high-profile cases, and most of their hours are spent creating warrants and finishing up paperwork.

That night during dinner, the boys sat down to a pot of chicken biryani and homemade roti Jinder brought to the table. They were interrupted by loud footsteps and the police radio blasting. The kitchen and the dining room were separated by a wall with a tiny window showing the countertops, microwave, and stove. It was now blocked by a tall Scotsman in his Miami Police uniform. “Going on patrol again, Sergeant?” Sheamus asked.

Wade tried to probe into Drew’s mind, but Drew created a telekinetic force field to prevent telepathic probing. It became very handy for an empath like Jinder as Wade telepathically warned him, _< < Jinder, don’t try to—>>_

Jinder winced, holding his abdomen as he felt very sharp pangs throughout his body. And, to make his point across, Drew slammed the back door as he left the house, causing a few items in the pantry to fall. Jinder took a deep breath as Sheamus growled in disgust at the Scot’s behavior. _< <Yer okay, fella?>>_ It was the Irishman’s turn to telepathically ask the Indo-Canadian.

 _< <Yeah,>>_ Jinder responded as the pain he felt from Drew’s telekinetic shield dissipated from his body. _< <That’s some powerful shield he put on. Felt like I was getting stabbed with glass shards.>>_

 _< <It’s been three bloody weeks!>>_ It was Wade’s turn to communicate. _< <I’m gettin’ real tired o’ that Scotch and ‘is silent treatment.>>_

 _< <Tell me about it.>>_ Jinder took another bite from his plate as he continued, turning to Sheamus. _< <This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t instigate a street fight between Drew, Wade, and me. Now I have to walk on eggshells around him because he won’t talk to me or Wade without a fight—>>_

 _< <He also asn’t come ‘ome lately,>> _Wade added. _< <I assume Drew took another undercover case because he won’t admit that the things he said to Jinder and I were entirely out of line.>>_

 _< <Well, he didn’t do anythin’ wrong!>> _Sheamus responded. _< <And yeah, maybe I did go too far in makin’ the situation worse by havin’ the three of yous’ brawl outside. I take partial responsibility in exploitin’ the haggis’…feline behavior. Sorry, lads. But, hey I wasn’t the one name droppin’ Drew in this when actually, it was all about Heath bein’ behind on rent.>>_

 _< <Well,>>_ Jinder responded, _< <If Heath didn’t go and vent to Drew about whatever and have Drew come at me and Wade—>>_

Heath was getting annoyed at all of the telepathic communication going on at the table. “HEY!!” he yelled. “Can y’all quit with the whole psychic thing y’all got goin’ on?! Creepin’ me out!”

“Well, maybe you can tell Drew to stop acting like a hothead and threatening to kick my ass,” growled Jinder.

“Ah ain’t heard any threats from Drew,” Heath scoffed. “All he’s been doin’ is not talkin’ to the both of y’all—

“Because if you didn’t go and tell Drew—

Then Heath rolled his eyes and got up from his seat, swiftly. His face and chest were bright red with anger, causing the freckles to disappear. “Look, Jinder,” he explained, “Ah told Drew what he needed to hear! An’ Ah’m glad Drew whooped yo’ ass because you wanna be a punk ass lil’ bitch talkin’ all that shit instead of bein’ a man an’ tellin’ him yo’self!”

Jinder got up from his seat and went into Heath’s face. “ ’Ere we go again,” Wade let out an exasperated sigh as they started a shouting and swearing match. “Lads! Can we please ‘ave ah bloody civilized meal FOR ONCE?!”

“Fuck that!” Heath stormed out of the dining room and headed into the living room to grab his keys. “Ah’m leavin’!” He went back into the dining room with a large amount of money and threw it on the table, startling Sheamus from eating another bite from his meal. “Here’s three months worth of rent. Ah’ll get the rest of it later. You’re welcome!”

“Where the hell are you goin’?!” asked Wade.

The Southern ginger glared at him. “Where Ah’m goin’ don’t concern you. You worry ‘bout payin’ for this shithole you call a home.”

Then Sheamus got up from his seat and went into Heath’s face. “Why don’t you show some goddamn respect?” He was confrontational. “Me, Wade, and Drew worked our arses off to get this place, even let yer and Jinder stay here. I told Drew and Wade that it’d be better if all us mutants live together. Least yer could do is be grateful, otherwise we would’ve let you get mugged and killed in this neighborhood!”

“Well maybe, Sheamus, if ya start cleanin’ up after yourself instead of sittin’ on yo’ ass watchin’ cartoons an’— As Sheamus tried to control Heath’s mind, he was hit in the face with Heath’s pheromones. That made the Irishman sit down and wolf down his food to the point to where he was licking his plate and his utensils, grossing Wade out.

“Fuck all of y’all!” yelled Heath as he headed toward the front door.

“Saphaida radī māṁ phākara (white trash motherfucker),” Jinder muttered in Punjabi.

“WHAT YOU CALL ME?!” Heath peered into the dining room.

“NOTHING! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT, HEATH!!” Jinder screamed as Heath turned to the front door and left the house, slamming the door behind him. He turned to Sheamus, still under the influence of Heath’s pheromones. “Sheamus, knock it off!” The Indo-Canadian used his mind control power to make him stop licking his plate. Sheamus shook his head as he looked at his empty plate.

“What happened?” he asked them.

“ ‘Eath ‘appened and Jinder stopped you from eating the dishes,” explained Wade.

 _< <You’re welcome,>>_ Jinder sent Sheamus a telepathic message.

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

 

**Author's Note:**

> This work will be linked to my fanfiction Tumblr, artemisphoenixfanfiction. Please do share and pass it along. This is a huge work in progress, so be patient.
> 
> Thanks!


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